


Emotional Miasma

by shieldings



Series: Crunch Down On This Bad Bad Content [3]
Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Teen Titans: The Judas Contract (2017)
Genre: Being an Empath is Stressful, Camping, Cuddling, Dick and Kory both cling onto Donna like limpets, Doing Friend Things And Then Fiercely Denying That You Are Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everybody Hates Terry Long, F/F, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mostly based on the 80s comics, POV Raven, Pre-Femslash, Raven Sees Auras, Raven-centric, Rock Talk, Slow Burn, Tara Has Issues, angst & fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldings/pseuds/shieldings
Summary: But Terra.  Terra loves violence: she enjoys hurting, and she enjoys being hurt.  It's probably very complicated.  Raven isn't supposed to judge others.She judges anyway.--Local Teen Has A Breakdown While Trying To Understand Other Teen's Breakdown: In Other News, Gar Logan Plays MonopolyA/N:As of 11/19/2017, the chapter formatting has been changed a little bit, to make things flow more smoothly.





	1. 01. Bloodthirsty?  Lonely?

**Author's Note:**

> So I told y'all that I was going to post that disaster from earlier from Rae's POV. It comes before this one in the series.
> 
> I've been a little manic lately, which is why I write like 10000 words in one night and then post it all at once instead of spreading it out like a normal person. New med stuff, maybe. Either way, I've been writing uncontrollably for the past week-and-a-half or so. 
> 
> Either way, Enjoy These Stressed Out Girls

_Creepy._

 

That's the first word that comes into Raven's head when she sees the new girl, Terra, step into the main ops of Titans Tower and hold out her scarred hand, smiling with crooked white teeth.

 

Of course, that judgmental thought leads to a whole brigade of guilty thoughts (how dare you of all people) and those can lead to anxious feelings, and anxious feelings never lead to anything good, so Raven carefully suppresses everything and shakes Terra's hand.

 

“I'm new to this hero business, so please go easy on me,” Terra says. She keeps smiling. She's smiling too hard, Raven thinks.

 

“She was living all alone in the desert,” Changeling explains. “She kind of freaked out on us at first, but then we got to talking and she's actually really cool!”

 

“Aw, shucks.” Terra rubs the back of her head in an exaggerated display of modesty.

 

Robin seems to like Terra well enough. She's powerful, definitely. There's a certain brutality in her attacks on the training mannequins, and Raven knows she's seen it somewhere before. Of course, she keeps quiet about it, because if she doesn't know where she's seen it, then what's the point?

 

It's useless to just run your mouth.

 

On Terra's third day as a Titan, she completely obliterates a bank robber's getaway car, nearly killing his driver in the process. She apologizes profusely, says that she didn't know how heavy the chunk of asphalt she dropped on him was. Everybody seems to accept the explanation. Wonder Girl even offers to spar with her and help her find her limits. Terra is practically glowing with satisfaction. Raven can feel it rolling off her in waves. She doesn't feel bad about hurting that man. She's proud of herself.

 

_Creepy._

 

Anyway.

 

Raven usually tries to avoid using physical violence. The monks at Azarath taught her that the best choice was to remain neutral and peaceful, never taking sides and never harming anybody. She... isn't sure she believes that anymore, considering the things she's seen. If one violent but non-lethal act can prevent many deaths, than she feels obligated to interfere. But this is excessive.

 

Terra loves violence. Raven knows that, for sure. The other girl always comes out of battles grinning, with a bloody nose and a bounce in her step. Raven knows that many people enjoy fighting. Starfire, who she loves, is sometimes so bloodthirsty that she needs to be held back. Wonder Girl, who she loves, sometimes seems to relish punishing those she's seen hurt others. Cyborg, Changeling, Robin and Kid Flash, all of whom she loves, will show brief moments of red-eyed fury that make her father stir inside her heart. But Terra. Terra loves violence: she enjoys hurting, and she enjoys being hurt. It's probably very complicated. Raven isn't supposed to judge others.

 

She judges anyway.

 

At night, Raven has a hard time sleeping. She isn't sure if this is her own fault, her father's fault, or the fault of some unknown third factor. She stays in her room, usually. Terra doesn't sleep much, either. Raven can feel her presence in the Tower, pacing anxiously up and down the halls, except for those times she isn't there, and all Raven can assume is that she's gone outside.

 

She comes into the training room, to talk to Robin about it.

 

“Something's wrong with Terra,” she says bluntly.

 

“What?” Robin asks. He's hanging upside-down from the parallel bars.

 

“Terra. Small, blond, likes dirt?” Raven steps back as Robin drops from the bars, somehow managing to spin in midair and land on his feet. “I'm sensing something _off_ about her.”

 

“She's been through some heavy stuff,” Robin answers. “Her mom died, and her dad is in another country. Give her some time to adjust.”

 

And that's it. When Raven passes Terra in the hall, the other girl smiles sweetly and gives her a little wave. Her aura is absolutely rancid. Raven suppresses a shudder and waves back.

–

“Rae!” Changeling is knocking on her door. “Can I come in?”

 

“No.”

 

“Will you come out?”

 

“No.”

 

“I've just gotta ask you a question!” There's a sort of whiny note in his voice that makes her want to shove him away, but that would be an angry thing to do, and Raven doesn't have time to deal with anger. Instead, she opens the door. He's standing there, bouncing on his heels.

 

“What is it.”

 

“I like Terra!” he says. “But I don't think she likes me. And you're the one around here who understands feelings and all, so--”

 

“I'm not going to help you with this.” Raven looks him up and down. He's oozing feelings, practically glowing with them. He's like an overstimulated puppy. How does he even function?

 

“There'll be antics,” he says, as if that's enticing.

 

“I don't like antics.” That's a little bit of a lie. Raven does like antics, but she doesn't like participating in them. “Cyborg likes antics. Go find him.”

 

“He'll just tease me, though...”

 

“Love withstands adversities,” Raven says, and she closes the door.

 

Raven hopes that Changeling will fail. No, she hopes that _Garfield_ will fail, because the cheerful face he shows to the public is not the same as the one he has when nobody is looking. He's too frenetic to get mixed up with Terra. She'll just catch all that glitter and carry it off with her, and leave him empty.

 

No, Raven is making assumptions. She can't let herself hate Terra-- _Tara_ , who spends too long in the bathroom and never sleeps. What she needs to do is figure her out. After all, the Teen Titans do good things, and Tara's excitement when she was accepted was genuine. Raven had felt a glimmer of it: her heart was pounding and she was overwhelmed by the urge to jump up and down, or run in circles, or do anything else to get rid of that sudden burst of energy. That means that despite the fake smiles and the dark aura, Tara wants to be there with the Titans. In that case, she should be Raven's friend.

 

Raven just isn't trying hard enough. That must be the problem.

 


	2. Aside: Monopoly Day

 Donna bursts into the main ops and announces that she's engaged, interrupting a too-long game of monopoly. Kory squeals with excitement, Dick smiles a little sadly, and Garfield keeps on eating french fries. Raven stands off to the side, doing her best to ignore the intense waves of emotion rolling off of Donna and Dick. She doesn't want to get caught up in it.

 

“Congratulations,” she says stiffly.

 

“There were fireworks, and we were dancing, and it was so romantic,” Donna sighs. “He said I was the strongest woman he'd ever known.”

 

“Wait, who are we talking about?” Gar cocks his head, and turns into a seagull. It seems a little unnecessary.

 

“Terry, of course!” Donna hugs herself and spins for a second, her long hair flying in all directions. “He finally proposed! He caught me totally off-guard.”

 

Tara is sitting on the floor, watching carefully. She raises her hand, as though she's in a classroom, and speaks. “Wait, wait.” She stumbles to her feet. “First off, who's Terry?”

 

“I guess you haven't met him, have you?” Donna says. “He's really the best. Here, I'll show you--” she rifles through her wallet and pulls out a small photograph of a sleazy-looking man in his late twenties or early thirties, with curly red hair and a short beard.

 

“He's super-old,” Tara comments. Gar-the-seagull perches on her shoulder, and she swats him off. He flutters over to Vic, who pats him gently on the head. “Is he, like, rich or something?”

 

“Age is just a number,” Donna says. “We've been dating for such a long time, and I was worried he wouldn't want to get married again, but...” She smiles tearily at Dick, who just nods. There's a dumbfounded expression on his face, and the emotions he's sending out are mixed: a bit of joy, but mostly a sense of vague betrayal.

 

Raven has never had any opinions about Terry. He seems to make Donna happy, which is good. She has absolutely no romantic experience (falling in love would be the worst idea, considering her condition), so she can't judge whether their relationship is any good or not. For a second, she wishes she was as excited as Kory, who is hugging Donna so aggressively that she's actually lifted her off the ground.

 

Tara is standing off to the side, with her arms crossed. She's wrestling with a thought; Raven can tell that much just by looking at her face. Tara suddenly steps forward and says, “Lemme see the ring.”

 

Donna proudly presents her left hand. Kory and Gar do the appropriate amount of cooing. Vic nods politely. Tara is unimpressed.

 

“That is the fakest diamond I have ever seen,” she says.

 

Donna pulls her hand back, blushing. “I know that! It's not about jewelry, it's about love!”

 

“Just sayin', that's glass. He could have at least gotten a real rock. Quartz is cheap, if it absolutely _has_ to be silica, but--”

 

“Tara, stop.” Dick puts his hand on her shoulder. Tara pouts, but she does shut up, which is nice. Her emotional miasma is a mix of embarrassment, irritation, and something dark and wet that Raven can't identify. She's usually so good at this. It's bothering her.

 

“We should celebrate,” Kory says. Her hands are clasped together, and she's radiating pure, bright joy. “What do they do on Earth, when there are marriages? Is there a dance, or a ceremonial garment, or--”

 

“We're not married yet,” Donna says. “The wedding date isn't even set.”

 

Kory pauses for a second, and then gets right back to being excited. “A betrothal is also deserving of celebration!” she says. “I will plan one!” And she races off, singleminded in her new goal: “Celebrate Donna's engagement to a mediocre divorced man.”

 

Raven lets herself giggle a little. That's just so _Kory._ It's the Koriest thing possible. Dick seems to have suppressed his jealousy for the moment, because he's shaking hands with Donna and congratulating her, and his smile is genuine.

 

Vic and Gar, who's human-shaped again, have decided finish to the game of Monopoly on their own, and are arguing over who gets whose property. Tara is staring out the window, her chin resting on her hand. Raven decides that now would be a good time to befriend her.

 

“Hello,” she says. Tara jumps, and spins around to face her. There's a wild look in her eyes for a second, but she calms down quickly.

 

“Hey,” Tara says. “You spooked me.”

 

“I do that sometimes,” Raven says with what she hopes is an ingratiating smile. “How are you handling the new job? Protecting the city is pretty stressful.”

 

“What? I'm fine. I'm great. I love fighting crimes.” Tara shakes her head rapidly, then adds, as an afterthought, “Go eat a bowl of dicks.”

 

Raven decides to ignore the last comment. “It's fine to ask for help if you need it.”

 

“Stop talking down to me. I'm not an idiot.” Tara shoves her to the side as she walks past her, leaving behind a thin trail of that wet dark feeling.

 

“I have collected some flowers,” Starfire announces as she flies through an open window, holding at least ten pounds of wild plants in her arms. “The celebration shall be tremendous!”

–

“How come nobody told me!?” Wally asks the next day.

 

“If you avoid the pains of Monopoly Day, you sacrifice its joys, my dude,” Gar answers.

 


	3. 02. Initials?  Panicking?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tara gets defensive over everything. Dick does an accidental striptease. Raven reads some mediocre poetry.

“Hey there,” Tara says one afternoon. Raven had been trying to meditate, but she hadn't been able to get into the right headspace anyway.

 

“Hello,” Raven answers, a little cautiously.

 

“I'm trying to get to know everybody better,” Tara says. “Robin won't tell me his secret identity, but everyone else has been fine with it. Gar says, 'if you're green or made of metal it doesn't make a difference,' and Wonder-Donna says that I'm a Titan, so I should know. Don't know where Kid Flash ran off to.” She laughs, blatantly fake. “So, anyway, I wanted to know what your real name was.”

 

“Raven.”

 

“No, I mean, like, your actual name.” Tara's eyebrows are lowered. A little irritation floats off of her.

 

“My name is just Raven. That's all.”

 

“No last name? No middle name, no initials?”

 

“'R.'” Raven says flatly, looking Tara directly in the eye. “My mother is of this world, but I'm not. In Azarath, surnames are unnecessary.”

 

“But what if you need to appear somewhere as a... as a not-superhero?” Tara asks. “Do you use your mother's last name?”

 

“No. My name is Raven.”

 

Tara groans. “I tried, I really did.”

 

“I told you my name,” Raven says. “But I'm trying to meditate. Would you like to join me?”

 

“Is this some kind of religious thing?” Tara asks. “Are you Wiccan or something?”

 

“I'm Azarathian.”

 

“I'll take that as 'Anglican.'” Tara does a finger-gun sign. She's trying to be funny, but she's not. Raven isn't going to laugh for her.

 

Tara's aura is somewhere between irritated and disappointed. Raven closes her eyes and does her best to focus on nothing, but this girl is starting to seriously grate on her nerves.

 

Raven decides that she might as well give up on trying to become friends with Tara, because every time she speaks to her it ends in somebody getting angry.

–

Then Tara decides to become friends with Raven. Aggressively.

 

“Seriously, what is it you don't like about me?” Tara asks. They're on the roof, at the spot where Raven likes to watch the sunrise. Tara has dark circles under her eyes. She's gone another night without sleeping.

 

Raven decides that she might as well be honest. “You're always rude to me, and you don't care about anybody but yourself.”

 

Tara's aura flashes a... jabbing color, if there's any way to describe it. “Of course I care,” she says. “Why else would I hang out with you guys?”

 

“Obviously, we have something you want,” Raven answers. “And whatever it is, I'm not giving it to you.”

 

“There's something corrupt inside of you,” Raven says. She turns to meet Tara's eyes. “There's something evil in me, too, but I fight it. My father plays with me sometimes, and makes me see darkness where there isn't any, so I can't ever be certain.”

 

“Your father..?” Gears are turning in Tara's head, but there's no way of knowing what she's thinking.

 

“Trigon. He's bigger than this. Tara, I wish I could say that I believed you were a good person.”

 

Tara takes a step backward. She's afraid, Raven realizes. “So, you're saying that I'm not a good person?”

 

“Sometimes I can't see,” Raven says. She wishes there were a clear way to explain empathy, but there just isn't. Feelings are colors are textures are sounds and smells, and none of it makes sense unless you're there to sense it. “It's like I'm wearing evil-tinted glasses, and everything I look at seems darker. But there's something about you that disturbs me whenever I see you. More than with anyone else.”

 

“Are you-- are you just going around telling people this?” Now she's angry. It's mixed in with the afraid, but it's dominant now. “Are you telling Robin and Gar and everybody, 'I sense darkness in Tara,' like you're some kind of oracle!?”

 

“No.”

 

“I read your personnel file, on the computer.” Tara asks. She sits down next to Raven, lets her legs dangle off the edge of the building. “You can move things, right? And you can see feelings.”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“It sounds made-up.”

 

“Geokinesis sounds made up.”

 

Tara grins-- it's real. “Fair enough,” she says.

 

“You're full of pain,” Raven says. “And you want to spread it out around you.”

 

“What does that even mean? Are you saying I'm some kind of sadist?” Tara kicks at nothing. So defensive.

 

“Be careful, Tara Markov.” Raven closes her eyes and does her best to breathe evenly, as though she's in control of her feelings, her powers, her life.

 

“Ya know, you're really pretty,” Tara says suddenly. “If you quit the whole dark prophetess thing, I bet you'd be really popular.”

 

Raven isn't sure whether that's a compliment or an insult, so she decides to take it as a compliment. “Thank you,” she says. “It's not something I think about much, but, thank you.”

 

Tara leaves, and Raven feels a little better, maybe.

–

Robin takes off his mask and Kid Flash retires young. Raven wonders if this is her fault. She had manipulated Wally into joining, back at the beginning. Maybe this is just the chickens coming home to roost. Maybe he'll be happier this way, even though there's regret mixed in with all the other feelings in his aura.

 

Dick stays-- Wally leaves. Raven does a good job of not feeling sad, even though she has a nagging feeling that this is the end of one of the few friendships she's gotten to have (even if it wasn't entirely his decision to care about her).

 

How awful.

 

Tara shows absolutely no grief over this loss. She never knew Wally well, but Raven can't help but resent her a little for it. Rather than appreciating the seriousness of the situation, Tara winks and nudges Kory when Dick takes off his vest.

 

“Do you think since he's not Robin anymore, I can be Robin?” Tara whispers into Raven's ear. Her breath tickles.

 

“No,” Raven says.

 

“It was a joke. Because if I was Robin, I could give everyone orders.”

 

“Oh. Funny.”

 

Tara becomes irritated again, but her feelings are pretty much absorbed by the general atmosphere of the room. Serious, sad, and warmly nostalgic. Dick hugs Donna, and promises Kory that he's not leaving. Vic pats him on the back and tells him to put on some pants. Dick kisses Tara on the cheek, and she says something rude, but she's still blushing.

 

Raven lets herself bask in emotion for a little bit. She wants to join in. She wants to get a hug and a promise, but those are feelings, and feelings are only good if you're _not_ Raven. She feels a little sorry for herself, and then she stops.

–

Even though Raven loves her friends (but never too intensely, or else), she loves it when the Tower is empty. On those quiet days, she's free to wander around as she pleases, read wherever she can sit, and make as much tea as she wants. To be honest, she could probably do those things when the other Titans were in, but being conspicuous is terrible.

 

So, while everybody else is running errands and going on dates and doing whatever it is happy young people do, Raven treats herself to genmaicha and the poetry collection she found in the basement. None of the poetry is particularly good, but the rhythms are soothing and the illustrations are in watercolor, so it's still worth her time.

 

She allows herself to drift off to sleep, and wakes up only when she hears the sound of footsteps on linoleum. Without moving, she just barely opens one eye.

 

It's gotten dark out, and nobody has turned on the lights. Based on the time of year, it must be around 9:30 at night. Everyone must still be out. It's not uncommon. Vic likes to spend the night at his grandparents' house sometimes, and the movie Donna had wanted to watch with Dick is one of those long twisty ones with a lot of dead wives and secrets, so it's probably not even over yet.

 

Despite all this, Tara is standing barefoot in the kitchen area. She's not facing Raven, but she looks disheveled. Her hair is a tangled mess, and her band t-shirt (actually Dick's, but he left it in the laundry room so it was fair game) is on backwards. Raven watches carefully as Tara washes an apple in the kitchen sink for a long, long time. She puts it down on the counter, and doesn't eat it.

 

Her emotional miasma is static. Looking at it makes Raven wince, but it also makes her curious. She opens her other eye, and takes a deep breath. The static is diluting a torrent of other feelings: uncertainty, certainly. A significant amount of mold-soft disgust, but also a thin string of golden pride. And, of course, that all-encompassing cloud of wet slimy darkness. Tara is moving in a strange way. She's either exhausted or manic. She reaches for the apple on the counter, but pulls her hand back at the last second.

 

Raven sits up straight, adjusts the poetry collection on her lap. “Are you hurt?” she asks.

 

Tara nearly jumps out of her skin. “No, and fuck you, and also why are you watching--” Tara grits her teeth. “Why would you think I was hurt?” she asks, oh-so-sweetly, still dripping with misery. She turns on the light. It flickers on, and somehow this makes the image of a girl surrounded by poisonous auras standing cracked and smiling in the kitchen just that much more disturbing.

 

“I'm an empath, Tara. I know when people are hurt.” Raven stands up, puts the book to the side. “It's kind of my thing. What happened?”

 

“What are you doing?” Tara asks. She takes a step backwards as Raven approaches her. “Is this going to be some kind of medical exam? I don't have insurance, so you should probably--”

 

Raven lightly touches Tara's forehead, and closes her eyes. She breathes in the poison, and immediately it's churning around inside her like an angry ocean and--

 

_**whathappenedwhydidhedothatwhydididothatidiotidiotdisgustingneveragaineneveragainstomachacheheadachewhathappenedwhathappenedareyouhurtfuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuck--** _

 

\-- and it's gone. Raven exhales deeply. She's not sure exactly what that was, but apparently it had been following Tara around. She notes, with some satisfaction, that the miasma around Tara isn't quite as thick as it had been, and the static is gone. The girl is staring at her, wide-eyed, mouth slightly open.

 

“What was that?” she asks.

 

“I took some of your feelings away,” Raven says. “Is it any better?”

 

A jolt of stabbing anxiety, right there, bright and solid as a knife. Tara begins to shake. “Did you read my mind?” she asks. “Were you looking at my memories?”

 

Raven shakes her head. “I can't do that. The closest I've ever gotten to that is visiting other people's dreams, and even that's too much for me to handle.” She chances a smile. “It totally drains me. When I wake up, it's like I didn't sleep at all.”

 

Tara's posture loosens. “What did you do, then?”

 

“I took the pain associated with your memories,” Raven says. “You still have them, right?”

 

Tara nods. “Still there,” she says. “Sure you didn't see anything?”

 

“No. You don't have to tell me anything,” Raven says.

 

“I-- thank you,” Tara says. Her voice is a little shaky. Then, her eyes narrow and she becomes cold again. “Why?” she asks.

 

“You know why,” Raven says. She doesn't have the energy to give Tara some kind of pep-talk, tell her that she's a beautiful human soul and that she doesn't deserve to suffer. She still doesn't trust her.

 

“...Okay?” Tara stares down. “Fuck, I put my shirt on backwards.”

 

“Go to sleep while you're still calm,” Raven says. “Whatever frightened you shouldn't be able to bother you tonight, okay?”

 

“...Okay.” Tara turns to leave for her room. “Thanks, again. I needed that.”

 

“I know.”

 

When Tara's gone, Raven turns the lights off again. It'll be a while until the others come home.

–

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Raven's civilian name is Rachel Roth in some Titans properties, but in the 80s she went to a class at a college, and the professor asked her name, and it ended with everybody confused because Raven's like Cher or something and only has one name, and That's Amusing.  
> TBH in the comics Terra's so fucking defensive and pissed off at everybody all the time that it's kind of funny. Like, the narrative is "she's an amazing manipulator, look at her amazing evil lies" but she'll just like casually say shit like "man you guys are the worst" and then someone will look at her funny and she'll be all, "but not in tHAT WAY, I'm not spying on you, I love to follow the law, wow!"


	4. Aside: Pacifism v Spider Harassment

 “Rae~!”

 

“Garfield.”

 

“Tara tried to squish me again.”

 

“Were you in her shirt again?”

 

“It was an accident. I was a spider.”

 

“Were you in her shirt?”

 

“In the back of it, right by the tag. I was trying to freak her out.”

 

“I'm a pacifist, so I can't make any official statements.”


	5. 03. Personal Space?  Weddings?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids go camping, Gar plots against a happy couple, and Raven bribes somebody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Hey Guess Who's Come To Town To Visit AO3 User Shieldings, Certified Piece of Shit
> 
> It's Uncle Depression: Everybody's Least Favorite Uncle
> 
> Anyway here are some girls being cute and having a lot of very bad problems

 

“Titans, to the rope course!” Dick points dramatically, but it really doesn't have the same effect when he's wearing mom jeans and a plaid shirt. All the same, the Titans go to the rope course.

 

Dick has somehow managed to rent a whole campground for four days. There are absolutely no other human beings on this mountainside, including park rangers and activity-supervisors. Of course, that's probably a good thing, because no supervisor in their right mind would let Dick do what he's doing to that rope course. What does he have against safety harnesses?

 

Everybody else takes their time. It's an uphill hike to the rope course and zipline, and even though it's autumn, any weather is too hot when you're carrying a loaded backpack up a mountain.

 

“Oh, don't be silly,” Donna says when Raven voices her complaints. “It's beautiful out, and rope courses are fun!”

 

Kory is hovering slightly ahead of them, with Gar tucked under one arm and Vic under the other. “Please try to keep up,” she says. “I do not want to carry you two as well.”

 

“Yeah, carry your own weight for once,” Gar says. Nobody seems to have any comment on his current position.

 

“Fucking green bean,” Tara says under her breath.

 

“I heard that!” Donna calls down. Kory and her arm-boys are well-ahead of her, and Tara is struggling to keep up with them.

 

Oh, dear. Raven's still at the foot of the hill. Well, she never was a particularly athletic type. She sits down and decides that it's time to get reconnected with nature. With a particular caterpillar, actually. She stares at it for a few seconds before she feels the ground shift under her. A sort of rolling motion has her stumbling uphill, until she's next to Tara and the dirt loosens up and starts acting like dirt again.

 

“You're not wimping out on me,” Tara says. “I have like seven cramps per muscle, so I'm not letting you just sit this out.” She grins. “Let's be miserable together, 'kay?”

 

“'Kay,” Raven responds, a little breathlessly. Tara grabs her wrist and keeps on moving, and, well, in that kind of situation the only other option is to be dead-weight, so Raven walks with her. It's actually kind of fun.

–

Everybody gets pretty gross within the first couple of days. That's how camping usually works, apparently. Raven is sore all over from the team-bonding exercises Dick's been pushing on them, and all she wants right now is to find somewhere quiet and meditate until she forgets where she is.

 

They have the tents set up on raised wooden platforms at “Campground D,” which, according to the brochure, is usually rented out by Boy-Scout troops. They definitely aren't roughing it. There are boys' and girls' restrooms and showers, and the firepit comes stocked with kindling, pokers, and rustic sitting-stumps. All the same, it's too hot during the day and too cold at night. Raven is not one of those outdoorsy people, she decides.

 

She wanders off-site until she can't see the platforms anymore, and sits herself down on the ground. She focuses on nothing. She isn't connected to anything around her-- she does her best not to feel the grass against her legs, and not to hear the argumentative birdcalls in the distance.

 

In Azarath, when she was a child, this was all so easy. It was always quiet, and nobody did anything too stimulating. Here, in this world, she's bombarded from all directions by loud voices, blaring music and neon colors, TV ads trying to sell her non-stick pans and blankets and prescription antidepressants. She's mostly over the culture shock, but when she manages to get close to true silence, she's immediately reminded how far from home she is.

 

Or... is this world home, now? How long does she have to live somewhere before it--

 

Somebody trips over her, and falls on their face. As soon as Raven's managed to pull herself out from underneath them, she realizes that it's Tara. She's lying defeated, face-down in the dirt.

 

“Are you okay?” Raven asks.

 

“Fuck you,” Tara answers, muffled by the dirt. She pulls herself up into a kneeling position. She's visibly grubby, but not hurt. “What are you even doing out here?”

 

“I _was_ meditating, but then somebody fell on top of me. What are you doing out her?”

 

Tara shrugs. “I don't know. Walking. Then I tripped over a dirt-goth.”

 

Raven suppresses a snort. “How are you holding up?” she asks. “Are you feeling better?”

 

“What-- what are you talking about? I'm great!” Tara scoots backwards and gives Raven a big thumbs-up. It's harder to see outside, but her aura isn't looking great. It's swollen.

 

“You said you were cramping up, earlier. I can help with that,” Raven says.

 

“Oh... I'm feeling better. I'm just not a fan of hiking.” Tara's aura deflates a little. “What does meditating do? Does it help you calm down, or is it religious, or..?”

 

“It's a lot of things,” Raven says. “I want my mind to be silent, so I focus on blocking out everything that might stimulate it. If I'm in control of my thoughts and feelings, my powers are stronger and I have a better grip on them.”

 

“Huh.” Tara looks pensively at the ground. “So, like, you're able to erase weird thoughts, or stop them from scaring you?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Show me how.”

–

Tara's not very good at meditating. Raven assumes that she's trying, but her emotions are still incredibly strong, strong enough to throw Raven out of her own trance.

 

She isn't sure that meditating is better with company, but she's touched that someone else is willing to try it.

–

The girls' tent was made to fit two adults or three children, so everyone is packed pretty tightly together. Kory doesn't seem to mind. She's hugging Donna like a body pillow, and Donna's trying desperately not to wake her up. By some odd twist of fate (that twist being that Donna wanted access to the convenient storage pouch on the wall of the tent, and Kory wanted access to Donna), Raven and Tara wind up next to each other.

 

Tara scoots closer to the edge of the tent, so her sleeping bag isn't touching Raven's.

 

“Don't get any ideas from them,” Tara says, side-eyeing Kory and Donna. “I have a personal bubble, and you are not going to pop it.”

 

“I wasn't planning to,” Raven replies. “It's a little presumptuous to assume that I'd want to squish up against you in the first place.”

 

She manages to relax, eventually. Kory is a lot warmer than the average person, so that probably makes it easier. She shudders to think of what it must be like in the boys' tent. Vic must be freezing. Do they have enough insulation? Gar is probably something big and furry like a bear, and he probably says it's to keep the others warm, but it's mostly because he thinks the idea of a bear camping in a tent is funny. Dick has one of those emergency foil blankets and is unbothered by either of them.

 

All hypothetical, of course.

 

_Raven is on a sidewalk under a white sky. She knows that there's something she's left unfinished, but she doesn't know what._

 

“ _Are you sure?” someone says. They aren't speaking to her._

 

_Raven is walking under a white sky, but the concrete has spread out over the road, and is eating away at the surrounding sand. Her heart is pounding as though she's been running for miles. Raven has been running for miles on a concrete floor, and she can hardly stand it anymore._

 

_Raven is lying on a concrete floor. There is no sky. She knows that there's something she's left unfinished, and if she doesn't finish it soon, it will go bad. Like a glass of milk left on the counter overnight._

 

_Raven struggles to her feet. The concrete is abrasive. It's left wide scrapes on her legs, her elbows, the side of her face. There is something that she has to do, or else something very bad will happen very soon._

 

_How soon is soon?_

 

_Raven is standing at the edge of the world, where the endless concrete disappears suddenly, leaving behind a sheer cliff and star-spangled blackness. There is a tangle at the edge, not close enough to fall, but not far enough to be safe. The tangle wants to be dead, but it doesn't want to die._

 

_Raven is beside the tangle at edge, staring at it, but that's not what she's supposed to do. She's forgotten what she's supposed to do. The tangle is writhing in pain. The tangle is made of human body parts, arranged in the most inhuman way possible. It is panting and saying jumbled words. The tangle is dreadfully alive._

 

_Raven supposed to push the tangle off the edge, she realizes. She doesn't want to touch it with her own hands. It's disgusting, and frightening, but--_

 

“ _I don't want to hurt you,” Raven says._

 

“ _Transaction,” it answers, and the ground beneath it cracks, and the tangle falls. One of its many arms reaches up, up, stretching like an arm shouldn't stretch, and Raven grabs it by the hand, and there is a body to that arm there is a face to that arm there is--_

 

She wakes up very cold. Tara has rolled toward her in her sleep, and her forehead is pressed against Raven's. She's staring into Raven's eyes, with an expression somewhere between awe and horror on her face.

 

“What the hell did you just do to me?” Tara whispers. Her breath is clouds in the cold darkness.

 

Raven's cowardice overcomes her. “What are you talking about?” she answers.

 

“The dream,” Tara says. “You grabbed my hand, and our eyes opened at the same time.”

 

“I didn't have any dreams,” Raven lies. “If you dreamed about me, it was a coincidence.”

 

Tara's eyebrows are furrowed. “I was having a nightmare, and you showed up, and then I was awake,” she says.

 

“I don't know what that means,” Raven says. That much is true. “Maybe you should try to interpret it.”

 

Tara groans. “If anybody here can interpret dreams, it's you.”

 

“No, no, I can't. Read a book. Jung, not Freud, he makes everything about sex--” Raven realizes she's babbling. Tara looks quite pale, but that might just be because of how cold it is. “Jung loved Freud a lot, actually, but then they got in a fight because Jung didn't want to make everything about sex anymore and Freud told him to leave, and it broke his heart, and he went into a very dark place for a while, and--”

 

“I'll find a Jung book,” Tara says. “About dreams.”

 

“G-- good.” Raven tries to smile. Tara tries to smile back. They both wake up the next morning feeling exhausted.

–

“Rae~!” Gar tackles her from behind and nearly knocks her off the wooden platform.

 

“What.” Raven turns to look at him. She gives him the dead-fish look, where she just stares at him without any expression. That usually gets him to leave if he's only got stupid things to say.

 

“Tara spurned me.”

 

“Were you in her shirt again?”

 

“No, we were just hanging out,” Gar says. “I'd kind of startled her earlier, and I wanted to apologize for being kind of crummy in general. And she said she was sorry back, and I asked what for, and...”

 

“It sounds like you just talked like people. Instead of creeping all over her like some kind of parasite.” Raven, still blank-faced, gives him a thumbs-up. “That's progress.”

 

“Well, then I tried to kiss her and she shoved me into the lake.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“What do I do?” He flops backwards dramatically, and knocks over a tent peg.

 

“Keep up the 'treating her like an actual person' thing.”

 

“But I tried that, and she didn't wanna kiss me!”

 

“And she might never want to. But you're teammates, so you should get along. And you're old enough to know that when someone says 'no' they mean it, aren't you?” Raven shifts from the fish-eyes to the glare. That should do the trick.

 

“...Yeah,” he says. He's pouting. “If Tara doesn't want to be my girlfriend, do you think that--”

 

“No,” Raven says.

 

“You didn't even hear what I was gonna say!”

 

“The answer is 'no.'”

 

“I guess I _was_ gonna ask Donna to divorce Terry, so that makes sense.” He grins, stupidly. Raven can't help but smile back a little.

 

“You still have some time before the wedding,” she teases. “You could have her leave him at the altar.”

 

“We'd escape to the Bahamas.”

 

“You'd have ten beautiful children, and all of them would be absolutely terrible people.”

 

“Yep.” Gar straightens up his posture, and his expression becomes more serious. “Is Tara okay?” he asks.

 

“How do you mean that, exactly?” It would be a lie to say that Tara has a particularly healthy aura, and she definitely isn't the most emotionally stable person Raven knows. Her moods change way too quickly. It makes her unpredictable.

 

“I don't know,” he says. “Sometimes she just seems _off._ You know I like her, so that's not supposed to be an attack or anything. But she freaks out really easily, and she's always so antsy. Do you think she's got, like, an anxiety thing?”

 

“I don't know,” Raven says. “If she does, that's her business. It doesn't interfere with her job as a Titan.”

 

“But I don't want her to feel bad all the time, even if it doesn't get in the way of things.”

 

“In the end, we can't control how other people handle their problems.” Raven thinks about the tangle.

 

“I guess. It would be nice to see her really, really happy, though.” His smile is a little sad, now.

 

“It would be.”

 

Raven continues to think about the tangle, and its reaching arm, and its grasping hand.

–

When they get back to the Tower, they're all thoroughly sunburned, bug-bitten, and numb-toed. Dick is in a great mood. Donna is feigning enthusiasm, for team spirit purposes. Everybody else is exhausted.

 

As soon as they reach the main ops, Gar falls face-down on the couch. Vic also falls, but he skips the couch entirely. It's very loud.

 

“Come on, guys,” Dick says. “It was fun, wasn't it?”

 

“It was fun,” Gar says through the cushions. “And I never want to do it again.”

 

“I enjoyed it very much,” Kory says. “During the day, I was with Dick, and during the night, I got to hold onto Donna, so it was an ideal situation.”

 

“Yay,” Donna adds halfheartedly. “It was kind of hard to sleep.”

 

Everybody groans in agreement, even Dick.

 

“Next time, let's stay in a bad motel and call it camping,” Gar says. “I bet we can find some interesting bugs and fungi.”

 

Tara blows a raspberry at him, before plopping down on the couch next to him. “Don't need to leave the room,” she says. “You're made out of pond scum.”

 

“Harsh,” Gar says, but he doesn't lift his face up.

 

“I think after everybody gets a full night of actual sleep, we'll all feel a lot better,” Dick says. He looks slightly discouraged by everyone's low spirits. “I'll make breakfast tomorrow!” he adds, looking around the room hopefully.

 

“If it's Frankenberry, I don't want it,” Gar says.

 

“It's Count Chocula, thank you very much.”

 

Everybody falls asleep in their respective positions.

–

Raven had made herself pretty comfortable on the rug, but she's woken up by the sound of someone walking around. She opens one eye, and can see, in the darkness, Tara putting on her jacket and lacing up her sneakers. Raven doesn't interfere. Tara quietly slides open a window, and jumps out. After a second, Raven hears the telltale “crunch” of Tara landing on a flying chunk of rock. She's too tired to think about it. She goes back to sleep.

–

“Wait, what?”

 

“I'm asking you to be one of my bridesmaids,” Donna repeats. She has her hands on her hips, and is looking very frustrated. “Terry's daughter has to be one because she's too big to be the flower girl, and Kory and Dick already agreed, so--”

  
“Can men be bridesmaids?” Raven asks. She hadn't known that. Interesting. To be honest, she isn't very familiar with the institution of marriage in this society. Azarathian weddings are pretty simple, but she knows that this world is more materialistic, so people like to show off when they get married. She's read some romance novels, but the weddings in those tend to be interrupted by spurned ex-lovers and robbers and such. Raven doubts that weddings usually involve those things.

 

“Technically, he's my maid of honor. That's what we're telling the wedding planner,” Donna says. “I was going to ask him to give me away, but considering that's a dad thing, and he's a year younger than me, I figured that it might be weird.”

 

“So, when you get married, your father gives you away, and since Dick is younger than you, he can't be your father,” Raven says.

 

“No, no, see, since I don't know who my biological father is, I need someone else to give me away at the wedding. It was going to be Dick, but to be honest, he really is not the dad type.”

 

Raven has no idea what a “dad type” is, but she decides not to let that on. “He's more of a mother,” she says, nodding.

 

“No, he's--” Donna pauses, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Actually, yeah. Dick is a huge mom. But mothers don't give daughters away at weddings.”

 

“Do they give away sons?”

 

“No. It's... complicated,” Donna says. Her face is a little red. “It's a very old-fashioned way of doing things, but I wanted to have that kind of experience, you know? Hippolyta would be upset with me if she knew this was my idea.” She pauses for a second, then adds, “Hippolyta raised me. She doesn't like how patriarchal human wedding ceremonies are. I'm just letting her blame it all on Terry.”

 

“Patriarchy means 'rule of the father,' right?” Raven asks. Donna nods. “So you don't want Dick to pretend to be your father, because then Hippolyta will dislike him.”

 

Donna shakes her head rapidly, and sighs. “I just want to know if you want to be one of my bridesmaids. You stand next to me while I'm getting married, and it's because we're friends and I want you to be there.”

 

Raven wonders if this is something she'll be able to do. Weddings are kind of big events, and emotions are always running high. She's handled plenty of stress in her day, but she generally avoids crowds and concerts and parties, because the risk of sensory and emotional overload outweighs the potential benefit of spending time with people.

 

“I'll consider it,” Raven says. She needs more time to think this through. What if they try to make her dance with someone? What if somebody starts crying? Oh no, what if _Raven_ starts crying? What if her father somehow takes advantage of that and--

 

“Thank you,” Donna says, giving Raven a quick hug. “I don't want to pressure you, but Terry has five groomsmen, so I need to match. Right now, I'm also trying to get Tara to join. I think she wants me to pay her, but she won't say it outright.”

 

“Good luck,” Raven says. “I hope I'll be able to come. Things are complicated.”

 

“I understand,” Donna says. She still looks a little hurt.

–

“Do you want Donna to pay you to be her bridesmaid?” Raven asks bluntly. Tara, who had been playing around on the computer, spins around dramatically, a look of horror on her face.

 

“Shit, you need to stop sneaking up on people,” she says. She sighs and fluffs her hair. “Also, yeah. I think I can get at least twenty bucks out of her.”

 

“Why?”

 

Tara shrugs. “I want twenty dollars. Also, I hate crowds, and I think she's going to invite everyone in the damn JLA.”

 

“She really wants you to,” Raven says. “I think it's important to her that all the Titans are involved with the wedding.”

 

“Well, maybe then she'll give me twenty dollars.”

 

“What would you even spend it on?”

 

“Um, fruits and vegetables,” Tara says. “And history books.” Raven side-eyes her. “Good stuff!” Tara says. “Really wholesome stuff!”

 

“Do the twenty dollars have to be from Donna?” Raven asks.

 

Tara stares at her. “Are you offering to pay me to go to Donna's wedding?” she asks.

 

“I might not be able to go.” Raven looks away, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. “But I... It's important to her. Please don't spend the money on drugs or pornography.”

 

Tara suddenly bursts out laughing. She continues laughing for way too long, clutching her stomach and gasping for air. Raven wonders if she should try to help her.

 

“You'll probably have to wear a dress that she picks out,” Raven says. “But please don't be mean about it, even if you don't like it, because she'll think it's pretty.”

 

Tara wipes a tear from her eye and smiles at Raven. “Just for the thing you said about drugs and porn, I'll go. Damn.” She suppresses another snort.

 

“In that case--”

 

“I still want my twenty bucks.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like since 00s!Raven is so snarky and quietly judging everybody (which I dig) sometimes we forget that 80s!Raven just plopped in from another dimension and half her "creepiness" is just that she has no fucking idea what's going on.
> 
> The Donna-Raven chat about weddings was purely self-indulgent.
> 
> I think that weddings in a place like Azarath would be pretty low-key. I also can't imagine that Diana and Hippolyta would appreciate Donna's taste in men, but I mean I guess you can do what you want Marv Wolfman. Do what you want, I'll just sit over here being salty.


	6. 04. Healing?  Dreaming?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes getting injured is an excuse to do sweet flips, some talk about reading preferences, and why Raven doesn't like sleeping. Two Goobers Continue To Insist That They Aren't Friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup friendos, guess who got 3 poems into an undergraduate art/lit magazine thaT'SA RIGHT, this fucker here.
> 
> I went to a soiree and my mother made me wear pantyhose and I put makeup on my goblin face, so it was a hell of a night. Smiled and nodded a lot, saw some very good artworks.

“It isn't that bad,” Dick says.  He's blushing a little, but Raven is pretty sure that, as the team's healer, she's the authority on how bad injuries are.

 

The medical bay in the Tower is in constant need of restocking.  Despite the obsessively-engineered chore chart that Dick made within the first week of the Titans forming, it seems that nobody ever remembers to bring in medical tape or ibuprofen (however, they always have a huge supply of brightly-colored cartoon band-aids, which Kory spotted at the dollar store and fell in love with).

 

“If it's not bad, then I can handle it even more easily,” Raven answers.  “How did you even get this?  You haven't been fighting.” 

 

Dick mutters something too quietly for Raven to understand.  She just stares at him until he actually gives her an answer.

 

“Tripped while carrying a bin of case files,” he says.  “Fell down the stairs, but kept the files from getting shuffled.”  He smiles proudly.  “Did some flips, but I landed weird.”  He pauses for a second, and then adds “I think I messed up on the last one.  I twisted all funny, and screwed up my center of gravity.  I should probably actually go to the gym and practice so that next time--”

 

“You sprained your ankle, and your nose is bleeding.”  Frankly, Raven is amazed at how many injuries her teammates are able to sustain without even noticing them.  She's been making an effort to desensitize herself to physical pain (both her own and other people's) since coming into this world, but everybody here is always scraping their knees and bumping their heads and biting their tongues, and even if she can't feel it all the way, she can still _feel_ it, and it's distracting.  Maybe it's because none of them are ever looking where they're going.  People are weird.

 

“You don't have to do anything about it, I've had _way_ worse--” Dick tries to explain, but Raven shakes her head.

 

“Don't be stupid.  I'll just filter it out, and then neither of us will have to deal with it.”  She lays a careful hand on Dick's chest.  He averts his eyes.  “Your nosebleed is giving me a headache,” she says.  “And since it's small, it should only take a second for me to fix.”

 

Dick nods, but he still seems embarrassed.

 

People are weird.

 

Raven takes a breath, and focuses on the irritating twinges that have been bouncing around inside her head all afternoon.  She applies a slight pressure to Dick's chest, and feels his heartbeat.  It's nice, being reminded that other people's hearts are beating.

 

First, she feels it in her nose.  For a moment, it's like she's been hit in the face with something.  A general all-around “thwap” which makes her wince, and then it's gone.  Then her knuckles and the palms of her hands feel like she's sitting on them, and then a tightness in her back, and ultimately a throbbing in her left ankle.  This one takes the longest, but it's still just a few seconds.  As soon as it's done, she lowers her hand.  Dick's ankle isn't swollen anymore, and even though there's still blood under his nose, it's not black-and-blue anymore.

 

That's always a good feeling, knowing that you've fixed someone's problems, even if those problems are small.

 

“Thank you,” he says, standing to test her work.  He doesn't suddenly buckle and tip over, so it seems that it's been a success.  “Sorry if I was weird about it.”

 

“You were weird about it,” Raven says.  “But I don't know why you should be sorry.”

 

“I'm ticklish,” he says.  It's half-true, Raven notes.  That's good enough for her.  She nods.

 

“I become startled when anybody touches me without telling me they're going to,” she says.  “I jump.  Sometimes I knock Gar over by mistake.”

 

“I've noticed,” Dick says.  “Sorry, again.”  This is a legitimate apology.  Dick really likes hugging people, and sometimes Raven's wound up on the receiving end of his affections without getting a proper warning first.

 

“You don't mean any harm,” she says.  She smiles slightly.  “I'm sorry if I embarrassed you.  I'm going to hug you now.”

 

She hugs him.  It's a nice change of pace to be the initiator for once.  He hugs back.

 

Raven puts this memory away in her “successful human interactions” box.

\--

“Hey, Raven.  Why aren't we friends?”  Tara asks one morning.  She's joined Raven on the roof, and they're watching the sunrise together.  Raven knows that neither of them managed to get much sleep last night.

 

“You know why,” Raven answers.  “You only want me to like you so that you can say that all the Titans do.  It's like you're trying to collect us.”

 

“Whoa, rude.”  Tara grins.  Fakely.  “I mean, I've been nice to you before, and you've been nice to me.  So, why do I keep getting such a murder-y feeling whenever you look at me?  I mean, we've got a lot in common.”

 

“As in?”

 

“Both grumpy, both have daddy issues.”  Tara keeps up the fake smile.  Raven senses no anxiety in her disclosure.  It seems rehearsed.  “Also, I move rocks.  You move rocks too, sometimes.  So, there's something, right?”  She tilts her head in a way that's probably supposed to be charming.  It isn't.

 

“Daddy issues.”

 

“Yeah.  My mom was technically my dad's mistress, so I never knew him really well, and when we did meet, I think he just felt guilty.  His wife nearly had a heart attack when she found out about me.”  Tara has her knees pulled up to her chin.  For some reason, Raven imagines her rolling away like a volleyball.  “And your dad's a demon, right?  How'd that happen?”

 

“It's not something I like to talk about,” Raven says.  “He was never a father to me.”

 

“So.  Daddy issues,” Tara says.  She laughs lightly (it's not light around her).  “Can't we bond over that, at least?”

 

“I think that if that's your definition of 'daddy issues,' most of the other Titans have them, too.”

 

“And you're friends with them.  So why not me?”

 

“You're keeping a lot of secrets.  I can tell.  If you're not willing to open up to me, I'm not willing to open up to you.”

 

“I've got a list of things I can tell you, if what you want is a sad backstory,” Tara says.  She's still smiling that fake smile, but it's cracking.  Her eyebrows are saying she's upset.  “I tell people my mom died in childbirth, but the truth is that she took too many sleeping pills.  I mean, I'm an insomniac too, so I like to tell myself it was an accident.  Let's see...  I have two older half-brothers.  I met them for a little bit, but I only got to know one of them.  He has powers too.  He's... so nice that it's grating.  Um, I ran away from home when I was twelve, and I've been living in the caves ever since.”  That last phrase was a lie.  Raven can tell.  She's not going to push it.  “That's pretty much my whole life story, so will you please stop acting like I'm some kind of intruder?”

 

“Are any of those things actually secrets?” Raven asks.  “Or are they things you tell everybody, when you want them to feel sorry for you?”

 

“They're true,” Tara says.  Her aura flickers in an offended sort of way.  “I guess the only one that's actually a secret is the one about my mom.”  Tara pauses for a second, thinks something over.  “Also, I really like smoking cigarettes, but I don't when I'm around you guys, because I know that it's not legal to have them when you're underage.”  She smiles, and this time it's real.

 

“...I like romance novels,” Raven says.  This has become an exchange of disclosures, apparently.  “I know it's not the same, but I like the bad ones with the bare-chested men on the covers.  The stories are almost always similar, and it's comforting to know that they'll end happily.”

 

“You didn't strike me as the type.  I figured if you were gonna read romance it would be, um...” Tara pauses, tries to find the right word.  “Like, _Pride and Prejudice_?”

 

“Regency.”

 

“Yeah, regency.  Not the smutty stuff from grocery stores.  You seemed too intellectual.”

 

“I give off kind of a cold image.”  Raven smiles slightly.  “But I'm still a person.  People are silly sometimes.” 

 

“Even smart people need an outlet to be dumb, is what I'm hearing.”

 

“I still can't be your friend, you know.”

 

“I'll keep trying,” Tara says. 

 

They're quiet for a while.

  
The sun is mostly up, and the sky really isn't so impressive anymore.  All the same, sunshine seems to suit Tara better than darkness does.  The light hits her hair just so, and it shines in a soft way, not like metal, but like embroidery thread.  She cranes her neck upward to look at the clouds, and her jawline has a strange, entrancing quality to it, like--  Raven shakes her head.  It's a waste of time to think about this.

–

When Raven finally gives into exhaustion and lets herself fall asleep, it's like gambling.  Most nights, she's fine.  She meditates until her mind is clear, and sleep comes naturally with silence.  It's heavy and dreamless and she wakes up mildly disoriented at most, with her hair in her mouth and her bedsheets a tangled mess around her.

 

Other nights, she forgets to be careful.  Those are the nights her father visits.

 

He doesn't speak to her with words.  He knows that words can't reach her.  After all, they're a lot alike.  Both of them run on other people's feelings, in a way.  That acute psychic ability didn't come from Arella.  Trigon speaks to her in memories and emotions.

 

She sees through his eyes, and her heart beats with his.  Raven feels herself razing worlds.  A million voices plead for mercy, beg for her to be their god and spare them, rather than do as she wishes.  Raven feels her lips curling into a smile, and for a moment, she stops her onslaught.  She feels the relief radiating from their fragile mortal bodies, feels a million baited breaths being released.  That's when she finishes them in a storm of choking white ash and pale flame.

 

Raven demands sacrifice.  She demands proof of her subjects' loyalty.  Bulls, lambs, doves and wailing infants are all ceremoniously slaughtered at her altar.  That isn't enough.  It's never enough.  Raven sends a dark army to tear apart the mountains in an explosive release of heat and pressure and yellow sulfur.

 

Raven sees millennia.  She watches a thousand species evolve in a thousand directions, all to die in a cataclysm of flying cosmic rock.  She sees planets inhabited only by silicon-based photosynthesizers, she sees enormous libraries built and then burned by warring factions of sapient worms, and she sees countries grow side-by-side and she sees war and birth and _so many brilliant things,_ and it's all boring to her.

 

Raven is the size of a planet and she's the size of a human man, she's the most beautiful creature and the most hideous, she's a god, she can have whatever she wants, and she's so _bored_. 

 

The monarchs of subjugated worlds bow before her.  She favors some, and spites others.  There is something wonderful about people covered in dozens of blinking eyes with frail tendrils of hands, but in the end, they as well are disappointing, so she shrivels them until they're nothing but shadows.  She cradles the pretty face of the boy king of some long-lost land, whispers something sweetly cruel to him as she snaps his neck and leaves him dust.

 

The only satisfying thing is death.

 

On the worst nights, Raven sees her mother, only one of a horde of brides, shyly stepping into a chalk circle in her gold-edged robe.  On the worst nights, Raven sees her mother--

\--

Raven is always careful in combat: she knows her telekinetic powers have the potential to be incredibly destructive, and even though she's become more moderate over the years, that pacifist Azarathian philosophy is still near and dear to her heart.  She doesn't want to hurt anyone unless she absolutely _has_ to, and even then, she'd prefer to keep it to a minimum of damage.

 

Even though hurting people is a release of tension, a weight off her shoulders, a sudden rush of calm when she lets her powers loose.

 

That's the scary part.

 

Anyway, for some reason or another Deathstroke has decided to terrorize the local news station.  Dick said that it made very little sense strategically, and Raven is inclined to agree.

 

Raven and Terra have blockaded the doors of the station, and Cyborg is currently head-to-head (or gun-to-gun) with Deathstroke, who has the news anchor in a headlock for some reason.

 

Did someone have a hit out on Mr. Fletcher?  What on earth had he done?

 

Raven heals Starfire's scraped knee, and feels tangentially less useless.  Terra is being strangely flamboyant today.  While she definitely enjoys a good fight, today she's striking theatrical poses and spouting one-liners every few seconds.  Maybe she's trying to turn into Robin, like she'd joked about before.  Terra would be awful at being Robin.

 

Raven doesn't know why she's so scatterbrained today.

 

Terra seems to have Deathstroke cornered.  He's actually down.  The only other person Raven has seen actually defeat the man on their own is Dick, and he can't fight without a hero identity.  Terra says something incomprehensible, and hits him again just for the sake of it.  A little mean-spirited, Raven thinks--

 

The explosion of emotion nearly knocks her off her feet.  Something huge, dark, and ugly has just erupted in the room, and nobody else seems to notice it.  Raven clutches her head, tries to focus on nothing just so that she can figure out what's going on, but the sheer hatred filling the room is making it hard for her to even hear her own thoughts.

 

For a second, she gets a glimpse at Terra's face.  She's staring down at the man in front of her, and her expression and aura are sheer disgust and loathing.  This is stronger than anything Raven's felt from Terra before, and it's sudden.  This tidal wave came without any warnings.  Deathstroke, too, has an aura.  Raven's never been good at reading his, but it's darkened and sunken.  He's... humiliated.  Why humiliation, of all emotions?  Why is Terra so intense about this?  Why is--

 

“Hey, Raven?  Could use some help over here,” Cyborg calls.  Raven turns to help him haul Mr. Fletcher out of the chaos.

 

When she looks over her shoulder, Deathstroke is gone, and Terra is still standing there, fists clenched and shoulders stiff.

 

The tidal wave is gone.  Now, she's standing in a puddle of regret.

 

“I was a dumbass,” Terra explains to the press.  “He, uh, said something that I didn't think he knew, and it threw me off, and then he escaped.”

 

“Does the Terminator have compromising information about you or any other Teen Titans?” asks Rita Richards, Fletcher's co-host, who is miraculously unharmed.

 

“No, no, nothing like that,” Terra says quickly, shaking her head.  “About, um...  somebody I knew before I was a hero.”  She pauses thoughtfully for a second, but Raven can tell this is rehearsed.  “I screwed up.  I think I might have been projecting onto him a little.  I do love attention, after all.  I mean, look at me now!”

  
Rita laughs politely.

 

Raven is still dizzy from the tidal wave.

–

Even though Deathstroke got away, they count the mission as a success because nobody broke any limbs or died.  A  loose definition of success is good for keeping spirits high.  They all walk back to the dock where the ferry to the Tower is, fully costumed and chatting loudly among themselves.  It's about lunchtime, so there are a lot of civilians staring at them.  Raven's gotten used to that part.  She's just glad that the other Titans are the ones who always get asked for autographs.

 

“Terra, I never knew you were so powerful in hand-to-hand combat,” Starfire says, hovering a few inches off the ground.  “Where did you learn those techniques?”  Terra is visibly trying to keep out of hugging-range, but Starfire is a lot faster and more determined than she is.  Raven knows how this will end.

 

“Umm...  I learned from my brothers,” Terra says.  That's a lie.  “My older brothers didn't want anybody picking on me, so they taught me how to punch good.”

 

“I see,” Starfire says.  “I learned on Okaara, with my sister.  She was always better at hand-to-hand than I was, but it was still fun.”

 

“Yeah,” Terra says.  “Fun.”

 

“Your fighting style is surprisingly brutal,” Starfire says.  “Is that common where you come from?  To use the lower kicks to trip people?”

 

“Yeah,” Terra says.  She has her thumbs hooked into her belt, and her shoulders are hunched over.

 

“I do not like to use those kinds of attacks,” Starfire says.  “However, your punching is so precise!  Can you show me some of your strategies later on?”  She has that classic Starfire look on her face: all bright-eyed and smiley and excited.

 

“I mean, I guess,” Terra says.  “It's not that special.  It's just punching.  You've got way stronger arms than I do, so you probably don't need to--”

 

“I will show you arm exercises,” Starfire says.  She's leaning very close to Terra, who is responding by leaning away.  “And you will show me how you do the hard punching.”

 

“I can show both you ladies you all kinds of exercises,” Changeling says, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

“Your limbs are weak, and bad at hitting,” Starfire says, confused.  Changeling responds by turning into a chicken and running to the head of the group.

 

Terra's emotions really don't match anybody else's.  Even Raven is feeling pretty good about the fight's outcome.  She hasn't had to do any major healing, and she knows that her friends enjoy a good scuffle.  However, Terra's aura is thick and heavy with dread.  What's waiting for her back at the Tower that she's so afraid of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point in the 80s comics, Kory's injured and has to stay home all day watching TV. She says that she doesn't like soap operas because the plots and characters are unrealistic, but Marv, George, my foolish foolish friends, let's be real here: You know that space babe would get super emotionally-involved in this kind of shit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBegEO-71jQ
> 
> (as a note this show is best for watching when it's on TV and there are no subtitles and you have to guess what's happening based on character expressions and changes in musical tempo)


	7. Aside: Splinters

 

“I do have some pretty good moves,” Gar insists.  “And I mean that in a completely non-comical and non-sexual way.  If you wanna learn how to do them, you've got to believe me.”

 

“All of your attacks involve changing shape,” Kory says.  They're working on her rooftop garden.  It's a project she's been very excited about for a while.  Even though it's not the right season to be planting everything, Raven and Gar have agreed to help her set up the planter boxes.  Raven hadn't realized how much hammering was involved.  She has four splinters.  This is why she prefers to be inside.

 

“Not _all_ of them,” Gar says.  “I can slap someone in the face.”

 

“I can slap harder,” Kory says.  “Also, that is not combat.  That is what you do when you are slighted by a lover.”

 

Kory's been watching a lot of soap operas lately.

 

Gar drags another bundle of planks up, and sets them at a right angle.  They tip over.  “Slapping works sometimes,” he says.  “You've got to catch your opponent when they least expect it.”

 

“Dishonorable.”  Kory nails her boards together with one smack of the hammer.  Raven wonders if there's a less violent way of setting up a garden.

 

“Effective.”  Gar grins.

 

“Stupid.”  Raven goes inside.


	8. 05. Magic Markers?  Secrets?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven meets someone...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** OKAY so I think you might have noticed a change in formatting. See, I'd been ending most of my chapters with non-plot related, fluffy slice-of-life vignettes and conversations. I liked those, but they were throwing off my plotting and mood. If I end a dark chapter with sudden fluff, then I wind up leaving myself disoriented and unsure where to start the next chapter. So I've turned the fluff into its own little thing, which doesn't change the amount of content or how it's arranged, but will be a little confusing at first. Basically, the asides aren't 100% plot relevant, but they are a little peek into everyday life at the Tower when tensions aren't too high. They do take place chronologically after the chapters they come after.
> 
> That's about it, bye~!

Tara stews in anxiety for several days after the fight at the TV station. Raven keeps her distance. She wants to be able to actually do things around the Tower: read her books, write up a list of supplies for the medical bay, make sure that Gar doesn't get himself killed with his shenanigans, and sneak in at least an hour of meditation. Tara's aura is more than just unpleasant. It's _sickly._ Raven can feel it any time they're in a room together, and sometimes through the walls. It's nagging, and insistent, and it won't let her think clearly.

 

Tara doesn't sleep on Thursday night, and on Friday she's even angrier than usual. She explodes at Gar for accidentally drinking out of her cup in the morning, and in the afternoon she's treating the punching bag in the gym as though it murdered her entire family (and also maybe a hypothetical dog, considering the level of rage). She breaks it, and then throws a hissy fit about the “crappy equipment” that Dick won't even get his “rich-ass dad” to replace.

 

“I'm trying to live independently,” Dick says, smiling awkwardly. “Trying to, um, be my own person and all that. I have a part-time job at a convenience store.”

 

“That's fucking _beautiful_ ,” Tara responds, throwing her hands up in the air. “That's the noblest damn thing I've heard in my _LIFE_!” She storms off. Raven watches from a corner. Tara shoots her a glare on the way out.

 

Dick replaces the punching bag with one of their many, many spares. Considering everybody's abilities, it's surprising that so much of their equipment _isn't_ already broken.

–

It's a warm Saturday, and Dick has just finished his morning workout routine (which consists mostly of somersaults and handstands, but Raven can't do either of those, so who is she to judge?). They're standing on the roof. The city looks nice from a distance, Raven thinks. From far away, she can't feel the chaos of thousands of unique people with their own goals and worries and feelings. From far away, it's just a nice silhouette.

 

“Something's wrong with Terra,” Raven says.

 

“I know,” Dick answers. “She's been acting weird lately. Do you think she's sick?”

 

Raven wants to scream, _“She's_ _ **always**_ _been acting weird, stupid!”_ but that would be excessive. Instead, she pulls her hood down and makes eye contact. “Her aura is rotten,” she says. “It's escalated over the past couple of days, but it always has been.”

 

Dick sighs. “What do you propose we do about it?”

 

“Keep a closer eye on her,” Raven says. “She either knows something we don't, or something is seriously wrong with her. In the head.”

 

“You're probably overthinking this,” Dick says. “She's still new. She might adjust.” Even he doesn't believe what he's saying. “...Maybe we shouldn't have been so quick to let her join,” he admits. “But she's a great fighter, and when she's not pissed off, she's pretty okay to talk to. Just because she's a little strange doesn't mean that she's no good at all, right?”

 

“Kory is 'a little strange,'” Raven says. “Tara is just suspicious. She leaves at night sometimes, and I don't know where she goes.”

 

“Ask her.”

 

“She'll lie.”

 

“Tell you know she's lying! God, Raven, why are you like this?” he runs his hand down his face in frustration. His aura flares. “I know you can't be as open about your feelings as other people, but this is just passive-aggressive. Talk to her. If it turns into a physical fight, we'll pull you off each other and put you in separate rooms. If your father starts bothering you, do one of those breathing exercises or something. Just don't-- don't do _nothing_ and then act like that's someone else's fault!” On the last sentence, his aura fizzles down, and he just stands there, looking thoroughly defeated.

 

Raven feels a little bad, but probably not as bad as she should.

–

1:03 AM on Sunday. It's cold, and Raven doesn't trust herself to sleep. She's been emotional today. She got too involved in a book she was reading, and she felt her heart accelerating, and she didn't stop herself to breathe. She'd laughed at at least three jokes. She had initiated a hug when Kory had become upset over... something. It doesn't matter. What matters is that Raven's mind is wide open, and if she sleeps, Trigon is going to do whatever he wants with her head. She stays in the main ops, because bedrooms make it easier to fall asleep.

 

She has a cup of tea, has all the lights on, and is doing her best to focus on a book she'd found in an abandoned dungeon some flashy villain was hiding out in. Of course, the villain was defeated quickly and wittily, but nobody came by to claim all the mysterious artifacts that were just lying around, so Raven figured she might as well take a couple home with her. This one is telling the history of some country she's never heard of. Apparently, its first queen was married to a lion and also to a tree, so their priests all insisted that...

 

The lion's grandson started an insurrection, and the tree's granddaughter slew him on a bridge that crossed a narrow river right before it joined the sea. The river ran scarlet, but the ocean remained blue. This is why each spring, there is a festival commemorating...

 

The thing to remember is that if asters are blooming wild by a grave, then the soul of the buried one is at peace. If lilies are blooming, they left behind unfinished business, and it is the duty of their descendants to find out what they must do. Yew is sacred, but if you sleep beneath it, you will...

 

The daughter of the brother slew the daughter of the sister, and the ocean turned red, but the river remained blue. Pounds and pounds of dead fish washed up on the beach and rotted there. There was never another war between blood-kin again, in that country. However, when the daughter of the brother's daughter took the throne--

 

Tara is standing in front of the window. She's in her pajamas (a pair of orange sweatpants and another obviously stolen t-shirt), and her hair is wet. Raven's grown used to that festering aura by now, but she still sees it. It's dripping down the window like rain. There's also something else. Something more tangible-- a solvable problem.

 

“You're hurt,” Raven says out loud.

 

“Jesus, you need to stop creeping up on people like that. You startled me.” Tara isn't surprised at all. Why would she lie about that, of all things?

 

“You have some new injuries,” Raven says as she puts her book down. “Do you want me to help with them?”

 

“I... yeah,” Tara says, turning to look at her. “Yeah, make them disappear. I don't want to look at them. Also, can you do that thing again? Where you suck the feelings out?”

 

“It's a little more complicated than 'sucking feelings out,'” Raven says. “It's heavy psychic work.”

 

Tara takes a couple of steps towards her, and Raven gets a better look at her face. She looks rough. Her eyes are bloodshot and there's a bruise forming on her cheek. What has she been doing all night?

 

“Just tonight,” Tara says. “I want to empty my head out. In the morning, I'll be able to think clearly. But right now. Right now, I want you to get rid of everything.”

 

“That sounds... bad,” Raven says, standing. Tara's aura is ugly, definitely. It looks painful. But the idea of completely draining someone emotionally seems _wrong_ somehow. “What have you been doing?”

 

“No questions,” Tara says. “Scrape out the gunk in my brain until nothing's left, okay?” She reaches out and puts a cold hand on Raven's shoulder, stares at her intensely. “Right now, what I need is to be empty.”

 

“I hope I can help,” Raven says, though she's feeling a twinge of uncertainty. Whatever this is, it's heavy.

 

Without hesitation, Tara grabs Raven's hand and presses it to her forehead. “Do it,” she orders.

 

“If you want me to get the injuries, too, I'll need to feel your heart.” Raven pulls her hand back, and gestures to the couch. “And if you want me to get really... um, really deep in there, for your head, it'll be easier if you're lying down. This might be a little uncomfortable, though, so...”

 

Tara snorts and saunters over to the couch. She flops onto it like a patient in a cartoon psychiatrist's office, resting her head against the arm and stretching her legs out.

 

“How's that, doc?” she asks.

 

“That... that should be fine.” Raven isn't sure if what she's doing is the right thing. All the same, she kneels by the couch. She rests one hand on Tara's forehead and the other on her chest. She skims over the fabric of the t-shirt, before locating the heartbeat and pressing down lightly.

 

“Trying to cop a feel?” Tara asks. She's grinning, but all her muscles are tense.

 

“Please don't make this weird,” Raven says, as if the situation isn't already really weird. Tara just shrugs.

 

Raven closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries to chase away all the wandering thoughts from the day. What matters right now is Tara, and her aura, and what's solvable.

 

Raven feels the connection click into place, and, like a glass of spilled water, Tara's feelings begin to seep into her. It's not like before, when everything was churning and stinking and sharp. This is a colder, slower sort of misery. Raven does her best to stay grounded. She knows that the words will be coming soon, and she doesn't want to get startled by them again.

 

It's the color of raw meat, and has a texture like wet gravel, the kind that stays in scrapes and can't be washed out. The first word is _**love**_ _._ Raven grits her teeth and pushes forward. She can feel Tara's injuries, now. Her wrists are bruised, and her cheek. There are bruises everywhere, actually, and Raven can feel them forming and disappearing along her own body like short-lived flowers. They are obvious and colorful and then they are gone. The aura is still thick and slimy, and Raven can't stop herself from shuddering each time she breathes it in. She keeps going. Something is at her neck, and it's somewhere between a bruise and a cut. The word is _**obviously**_ and the sensation is more wet gravel, except now it's covering her and each broken rock is burying itself under her skin, forming hundreds of little lumps.

 

A sudden feeling in her abdomen, blunt and shocking. Raven remembers not to let it knock the breath out of her, because it isn't her pain. Her foot is bleeding ( _no it isn't_ , she reminds herself). Something smells like oak. A bitter taste is in her mouth, splotches of color float like galaxies beneath her eyelids, and the word is _**idiot**_.

  
This is where Raven would usually stop. The obvious physical injuries are mostly dealt with, and the surface emotions have been calmed. But Tara had asked her to take _everything_ , and even though that was such a bad idea, Raven had agreed to it. She presses slightly harder with both of her hands. She feels feverish.

 

Pressure. Incredible pressure, as though she's about to pop. It's like she's at the bottom of the ocean, and she can feel all its weight at once. _**Papa?**_ with a question mark and a flashing neon migraine, pulsing against the inside of her head and along her bones. The colors are viciously bright, and Raven doesn't want to be here, but she isn't done and she'd promised that she'd finish. _**Outrage**_ , splattered against floating curtains in a dirty room with high counters, and she's afraid, she's so afraid.

 

Abrasions from rough denim, overwhelming regret, a shameful ache, and the color doesn't matter. The texture is smooth cotton. It smells like coffee with sour milk in it. Raven lets everything pass through her, and the words are _**you knew**_ and, something is creeping up Raven's spine like a desperate spider...

_Raven recognizes this, she recognizes this, he knows what he's done, she knows what she's done, Raven recognizes this, this was the boy-king and the girl in the circle and the--_

 

Nothing is left. Raven can't analyze this. Her stomach is churning from the effort. She's still on her knees, and she can still feel pebbles buried under her skin. She's fallen against the couch, both hands still in position. Her mouth is very dry. She lifts her hands and falls onto her back, takes several deep, gulping breaths. Her vision is swimming. She takes a second to regain her composure, and it takes more than a second, but she's not going to let that on. She pushes herself up into a sitting position and looks at Tara.

 

Tara has hardly any aura around her at all. It's a weak yellow, like a lemon-scented magic marker. It's not pooling or creeping or dripping. It doesn't really look much different from any other aura that Raven's seen.

 

“How's it?” Raven manages to slur out. “Still hurt?”

 

Tara turns to look at her with unfocused eyes. “Better,” she says. “Can't,” she says.

 

“That was...” Raven takes another breath, shakes her head to try to clear the dust specks floating in her eyes. “That was more than I've ever done at once. Why did you have so many...?”

 

“No questions,” Tara says. “How long will this last?”

 

“The physical injuries are gone forever,” Raven says. “Whatever was in your head is going to come back later. You remember.”

 

“I remember.” Tara smiles weakly at her. “I guess it'll only be quiet for the night, then.”

 

“Sorry,” Raven says. “I had to go beyond my own limit. I don't think I could make...”

 

“It's fine,” Tara says. Her magic-marker aura is flickering a little bit. “I don't feel empty,” she says. “It's not bad, but something's still left in there.”

 

“I did my best,” Raven says, gritting her teeth. She's just pushed herself to the point of collapsing, and Tara's acting as if she's left behind half-finished work. “It's not like I'd be able to erase your personality or something. Did you want me to turn you into a mannequin?”

 

Tara straightens up so she's sitting rather than lying down, and pulls her knees up to her chin again. She seems to like that position. “I'm not freaked out anymore,” Tara says. “I was up for being a mannequin, I guess. They always look so composed. If you don't mind, could you...?” She's trying to make light of the situation. Raven, for some reason, smiles and shakes her head.

 

“I can't do that. I can only take away...” What's the right word? “Plaque, I think. I can only take away buildup, and intrusive thoughts, and things that don't form naturally. I can soften extreme reactions, but I can't actually make feelings disappear.”

 

“Plaque,” Tara repeats. “Mental plaque.”

 

“What?”

 

“If you really want to deal with that, you have to go to the mentist,” Tara snaps her fingers triumphantly. “But he'll lecture you about flossing your brain.”

 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Raven says.

 

“It was a joke.”

 

“Funny,” Raven says, nodding.

 

Tara tries very hard to suppress a smirk. Her lips curl in an awkward way, and she ducks her face behind her knees. She shakes for a second, and then regains her composure. “You don't just say 'funny' after you hear a joke,” she says. “That's really weird. You're supposed to either laugh or roll your eyes.”

 

“Sometimes I roll my eyes when Garfield makes jokes,” Raven says. “I just wasn't sure if it was appropriate to--”

 

“Everybody rolls their eyes whenever the Green-Bean _talks,_ ” Tara says, peeking out at her. Her eyes are very blue. Raven thinks of the ocean and river and the history book. “But I guess that's a step in the right direction.”

 

“He says that he tried to kiss you without asking first,” Raven says. “I scolded him. Is he still bothering you?”

 

“Nah,” Tara says. “He's just kind of annoying. He's sweet when he's not being a little douchebag.”

 

“Do you want to be friends with him?” Raven asks.

 

Tara averts her eyes. “I guess,” she says quietly. “I mean, I did kind of push him into a lake. But being friends might be nice.”

 

“He's like a puppy,” Raven says. “You have to be nice to him, but don't let him get away with misbehaving, or else he'll start stealing your cloaks and pretending to be you.”

 

Tara snorts. “Did that happen?”

 

“When I was very new here,” Raven says. “Donna gave me the puppy advice, and we've gotten along pretty well ever since. He flirted with me for a while, too, but then he outgrew it. I think that might just be his default way of interacting with people.”

 

“I don't get romance,” Tara says. “Like, cuddling up to people and holding their hands and kissing them. In the end, they just wanna fuck, and everything else is just excuses. It all just seems like a means to an end, you know?”

 

Raven knows, in a way. She's always been good at cutting through fancy lies and figuring out people's goals, and she's seen some things (and been shown some things) that could easily turn her very cynical. Raven is doing her best to avoid that outcome.

 

“Romance isn't always fake,” Raven says. “I think Dick and Kory are in love.”

 

Tara rolls her eyes at that. “You kidding me?” she asks. “He's rich and bendy and hates wearing pants, and she looks like a bunch of water balloons glued together with a lipstick and a wig on top. They're totally screwing.”

 

Raven feels her face heating up, so she takes a deep breath and suppresses her embarrassment. “Even if they are, they still love each other.”

 

“Because they like screwing. I mean, have you seen how they look at each other? It's disgusting.”

 

“It's not disgusting,” Raven says quietly. “They're friends, too. They do plenty of other things, so even if they _weren't_ , I think that, um--”

 

“I just don't believe it,” Tara says. “They're too sparkly. It's definitely a lie.”

 

For some reason, a wave of sadness smacks Raven in the face. She isn't sure whether it's her own or Tara's. “Friendship is real,” Raven says. “You can care about someone without trying to get anything from them.”

 

“Maybe,” Tara says. “I don't know if that's true, either.”

 

_If that's not true, then why do you keep asking me to be your friend?_ Raven thinks.  _What's your motive?_ Instead of saying that out loud, she says, “Maybe it is fake, but I'd rather believe it's real. I want to be able to look at people without...”  _Without being afraid. Without being afraid that my own inherent evil will ruin them, or that they'll turn on me for whatever reason._ “Without thinking about what they want from me all the time,” she finishes.

 

“That's just lying to yourself,” Tara says. “People are animals. It's kill or be killed out there, you know?”

 

This whole experience is very strange. This is the first time Raven's seen Tara without filters. She's not using that sugary-sweet fake friendliness that she slips into when she's caught doing something wrong, and she's not bristling like a cornered raccoon every time Raven talks. She seems so  _normal._ Maybe Raven isn't the best judge of normal. Tara seems a little sad and a little bitter, but she doesn't seem like a bizarre monster dripping with thick anxiety and a mouth full of lies.

 

This person, maybe, Raven  _could_ be friends with, despite the nasty things she's saying. But this person will be gone in the morning, eaten up again by paranoia and dread and fury.

 

“You should go to sleep before the effect wears off,” Raven says, standing. “You won't have any bad dreams, and you'll probably be in a better mood in the morning.”

 

Just as Raven begins to walk away, Tara reaches out and grabs her hand. It's warm.

 

“Stay,” Tara says. “We've got enough couch space for two people. I'll stop talking.”

 

Raven turns to look at her. She's a little pathetic, lying there exhausted and unprotected by her usual shroud of static and dishonesty. Tara gazes at her in an almost childlike way, loosely gripping Raven's fingers, looking up at her with hopeful eyes.

 

Maybe against her better judgment, Raven nods and joins Tara on the couch. Tara immediately drapes an arm over her shoulder and presses her face into her back. Raven thinks of that camping trip, when Tara had accused her of trying to intrude on her personal space. Who's the intruder now?

 

It's not really a problem. Raven falls asleep eventually, and she's too tired to have nightmares.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After five chapters of vitriol, they finally cuddle and it's mostly because Tara's dopey on anti-trauma magic.
> 
> As a note, there's some theory bouncing around that administration of drugs that mess with the adrenal glands (which are stimulated by fear) almost immediately after a traumatic incident can reduce the likelihood of PTSD developing. 
> 
> The idea is that since the natural fear reaction has been suppressed, the memory of the trauma won't have as strong a biological connection to panic. While this is promising for victims of sudden, one-time traumas (a traffic accident, a natural disaster, a mugging), it most likely would have no real effect on people dealing with continuous stress (soldiers in combat, police officers who develop PTSD-like symptoms after regular exposure violence, and people in abusive relationships to name a few). 
> 
> At the moment, I don't believe anybody's using this kind of treatment, because cognitive behavioral therapy and antidepressants are better-understood and have more evidence to back them up, and studies with adrenal-related drugs have shown only moderate support. You don't want to gamble with people's mental health! All the same, it's an interesting concept! Here's a link to the review: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0066009/ 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway I really like psychology and brain chemicals hello how are you


	9. Aside: Interaction Styles

“Default interaction styles?” Dick rests his hand on his chin, thinks for a second. “Investigative friendship!”

 

“Is that a thing?” Tara furrows her eyebrows. Raven smiles a little under her hood.

 

“It is. Vic, what's yours?”

 

“Uhh...” Vic doesn't seem to appreciate being put on the spot. Raven can tell he's embarrassed. “I think my default style is... aloof and cool.”

 

“No, it's not,” Gar says. “You're a teddy bear.”

 

“Only because you keep hugging me all the time! I'm not gonna yell at you for being friendly! But my default style is aloof and cool, definitely.” Vic nods his head decisively. There's no arguing with that nod. “Gar, how about you? What's your default interaction style?”

 

“Adorable,” Gar says, without hesitating. “But also seductive.” Tara buries her face in her arm to stifle her laughter, but then Gar points to her. “How about you?”

 

“Open-minded and friendly,” Tara says. Everybody grumbles in disagreement.

 

“Maybe it would be better if we described each other?” Dick says. “Like, Kory's default approach is 'excited about being alive.'”

 

“I think Tara's default approach is 'under-socialized dror,'” Kory says. “'I am covered in fur and I will sting you with my poison feelers if you try to pet me.' That kind of approach, do you understand?” Everybody nods, even though they don't.

 

“Donna's default approach is 'concerned older sister who might smack you if you've been going through her stuff,'” Gar says. “And Dick's is 'Mom got angry during aerobics class but still made cookies.'”

 

“This is getting really abstract,” Donna says. “How about this: Dick is the flirty one, Gar is the comic relief, Kory's the perky best friend, Vic is the tough guy with squishy insides, and I'm the hero. Oh, and Raven and Tara are the shy ones.”

 

“I'm not shy!” Tara says, bristling.

 

“She's blushing,” Gar says. “Definitely the shy one.”

 

“She'll come out of her shell some day,” Dick says, nodding.

 

“I am _not!_ ” For some reason, Tara seems to find this interpretation of her character incredibly insulting. She spins around to look at Raven, completely red-faced. “Raven, tell them I'm not shy!”

 

“We can only control so much of our own fates,” Raven says solemnly. “Accept what's given to you.”

 

In response, Tara knocks over Dick's can of soda, which spills onto Kory, who isn't particularly upset by it, so Donna becomes upset in her place.

 

It's a hullabaloo.

 


	10. 06. Pigeons?  Lying?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven definitely doesn't enjoy cuddling. Tara makes a big lifestyle change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be on an airplane all Sunday, so this is an early update. We're coming to the climax of this story, because soon it'll be at the point where the Fucko Tale ended. After this, I'll be doing a finale with rotating viewpoints. 
> 
> All of this is because I'm afraid to work on my group psychotherapy manual project.

Tara is less belligerent, after that night. She makes a show of being angry and disgusted by everyone, and she calls Raven a witch, and she crosses her arms and rolls her eyes, but Raven can see the difference.

 

Raven remembers the abstract images and sensations that Tara had ferociously suppressed. She remembers that they were familiar, and this leaves a sick feeling in her stomach. It's as though her father is watching over her shoulder, whispering profane things in her ear. Even so, Raven knows not to ask about them. If Tara had wanted to strip them of all emotional context, then she wanted them _gone._ Raven is certain by now that those anxieties have resurfaced, but she suspects that if she asks, Tara will get angrier and more closed-off. Raven does her best not to worry.

 

The darkness has crept back into Tara's aura. It belongs to her, or she belongs to it. It's not foreign to her, even if it leaves her frantic and wild-eyed. Raven isn't unfamiliar with that feeling of inherent badness, and after seeing Tara peaceful, somehow her chaotic form makes sense. Raven is no longer creeped out. That's definitely something.

 

“We're still not friends, right?” Tara asks one afternoon. “Even after you helped me. Because you can't be my friend.”

 

“Still not friends,” Raven says, peeking out from behind a paperback romance novel. She's not sure if she's being honest.

 

“I haven't won you over. You still don't trust me.”

 

“I don't.” That's honest.

 

“That sucks,” Tara says, but her aura seems satisfied. “I'm still not friends with all the Titans.”

 

“Can't collect me,” Raven says, returning to her book.

 

“Those are really dirty, right?” Tara asks. She gestures to the book.

 

“Less than you'd expect,” Raven says. “There's sex, but it's the drama that makes it fun to read.”

 

“That's stupid,” Tara says. She's grinning, and it's a legitimate grin. “Isn't there already enough drama around here?”

 

“It's fake drama, so it's fun.” Raven pauses. “A lot of stressful things are fun when they're made-up, I think. The hero of this one is a pirate, and his mentor killed the heroine's father, who was also a pirate, so she meets him while she's trying to have revenge. Most of the people in this book are pirates.”

 

“That is incredibly stupid,” Tara says.

 

“Let me read. I think the sword is a Freudian metaphor, and it's grossing me out.”

 

“Freud... makes everything about sex, right?” Tara leans forward a little bit, waiting eagerly.

 

“Yep.”

 

Tara pumps her fist and scampers off to do whatever it is Tara does.

–

“Romance novels aren't about sex, but porno magazines are,” Tara announces loudly. Raven is the only other person in the room. Everybody else is off on their own adventures.

 

“I don't want to hear about that,” Raven says.

 

“Just thought you should know. They've got chicks fucking each other, sometimes. One of them was wearing a plastic cock, and the other one was sucking on it, and I was thinking 'how is any of that fun for anyone involved,' and--”

 

“I really, really don't want to hear about that,” Raven repeats. “Please don't tell me about fake penises anymore.”

 

“Just thought you should know,” Tara says, and she sidles out.

–

They definitely aren't friends. Absolutely not. Tara makes a big show of being offended every time Raven calls her out on a petty lie, and Raven regularly complains about Tara's childishness and overdramatic attitude.

 

Even though they aren't friends, whenever they're alone together, Tara sits a little closer than necessary, and her anxious aura softens. Even though they aren't friends, Raven isn't really upset when Tara “accidentally” bumps shoulders with her on the couch, and she listens patiently to the other girl's angry rants about their teammates, bad movies, and how aquariums should just use regular pebbles because they're everywhere anyway, and the fish would probably like it better, so what the hell is with all those little blue glass beads?

 

They both have an easier time falling asleep when they're in the same room. They aren't friends, of course, so Raven never visits Tara's room and Tara never visits Raven's. But when nobody else is home, they'll both wake up in front of the TV slouched against each other, and then they'll fight about who invaded whose bubble. Maybe their respective insomnias cancel each other out. It's a mystery.

 

One early morning, when the sky is still dawn-gray, Raven wakes up on the sofa with Tara's arms wrapped around her. Tara's breath is soft and even, and it tickles the small hairs on the back of Raven's neck. She isn't sure whether or not she should move. After all, who knows what mood Tara will be in when she wakes up? She still might be in one of her weird cuddly phases, or she might just be pissed off like usual. Raven closes her eyes and decides that she should try to go back to sleep, so she won't have to deal with any of this.

 

Just as Raven manages to get herself into a good, floaty sort of headspace, she feels warm lips press against the base of her head, and the thin arms around her hug her closer. She can feel a gentle heartbeat against her back, and for some reason, she's not confused or surprised. She shifts a little, rolls over so she's facing Tara, who's still in that twilight space between sleep and wakefulness. Tara looks at her blearily, and smiles.

 

Tara mumbles something and hugs Raven tighter, nestling her head beneath her chin. Her breath is warm against Raven's collarbone. Raven hugs her back, and they don't wake up until the sun is shining and Kory comes in, eyes blazing, to announce that she found a rude newspaper article and she wants to fight a journalist.

 

Tara bumps her head on Raven's chin, Raven falls off the couch, Tara calls Raven a pervert, Raven calls Tara a pervert, and Kory explains that some writer for the  _Bugle_ has been saying very hurtful things about aliens. Raven suggests that Kory could write a letter to the editor. Kory insists that the only honorable way to deal with these things is through battle. Tara falls back onto the couch and covers her head with a pillow.

 

Nobody talks about the hugging. Raven wonders if Tara remembers the kiss.

–

“What's that?” Raven asks. Tara starts and gives her that classic deer-in-the-headlights look. In her right hand, she's holding something very small that she appears to have pulled out of her eye.

 

“Contact lens,” Tara says quickly. “Can't leave them in too long. It's bad for you.”

 

“I didn't know you had bad eyesight,” Raven says. She tries to get a better look at the object in Tara's hand, but the girl has wrapped her fingers around it and hidden it completely. “Most people with contacts also have glasses, so they don't have to be blind in between... lens shifts.” There has to be a better word for that.

 

“Too vain,” Tara says, looking nervously from side to side. “Anyway, glasses don't match my image. I'm a rough-and-tumble kind of gal, you know?”

 

“I know,” Raven says. “How come--”

 

“Oh no,” Tara interrupts, holding up her index finger. “I just got my period. Right now. This is happening.” She runs out of the room before Raven can say anything else.

–

“Why do they always have to be so _rude?_ ” Starfire yells through the chaos. “Criminals just do not seem to understand that--” she ducks to dodge a beam of crackling pink electricity.

 

A quintet of pigeon-masked people carrying fancy electronic guns was halfway through the process of robbing the bank when the Titans burst in through a window. The window had already been broken, so Raven lets it go, despite the fact that the door was also open. At the moment, their main goal is to get the civilians (eight of them, according to the police radio that Dick intercepted back at the Tower) out of the building, and then they can move on to beating up the robbers. Most of the bank staff are so used to robberies at this point that they've developed their own protocol, and can handle themselves (mostly by hiding, but they've gotten very good at it).

 

Starfire tucks a businessman under each arm while Terra throws rocks and insults at the closest robber, creating a pretty good distraction. Changeling, ever the show-off, turns into a bright green triceratops and ferries away two children and their very distraught mother. Cyborg has that lawyer lady and Wonder Girl has the zitty teenager in the McDonald's uniform. Raven can feel the civilians' anxiety, but they're also relieved. They trust that the Titans will be able to handle this situation.

 

Raven isn't sure she will be able to handle this situation. She feels so useless when things are loud and bright. She has to step awkwardly from side to side to avoid getting zapped or punched or headbutted, but that's the only thing she trusts herself to do. Raven really, really doesn't want to use offensive magic today. The previous night, her father had been making her watch his memories again (it was Arella). If Raven lets herself get aggressive, she might make an unfixable mistake. She ducks as some kind of small explosive (!?) soars over her head and into the wall. The force of its blast knocks her forward and leaves her disoriented. She blinks and stands shakily, trying to find her bearing.

 

Despite the dust and loose floating paper bills and loud crashing sounds, she realizes something. Only seven civilians have been removed from the premises, but the Titans have moved into full-out combat mode. They've missed someone. Raven dodges a laser and looks frantically from side to side, trying to spot whoever was left behind.

 

There, ducking behind the fake orchid plant, on the far side of the room. Civilian number eight is a short, round-ish old man with his flannel shirt tucked into his khakis. Everybody has become very invested in fighting the pigeon squad, so they must have not noticed him. He doesn't have much of a presence. It took a second for Raven to even pick up his aura (how awful of her). Raven takes a deep breath and charges into the fray.

 

She weaves her way around Wonder Girl (who is currently grappling with an impressively buff pigeon-woman), nearly crashes into Cyborg (who apologizes profusely to her before punching the daylights out of a dual-wielding pigeon man), and slides under Changeling (who is an elephant, although Raven can't tell who he's fighting).

 

Now that she's closer, the man's presence is more obvious. Flannel suits him. His aura is faint, but it's brisk and leafy.

 

“Took you long enough,” he mutters.

 

“I'm very sorry,” Raven says, clasping her hands together. He's so brittle-looking. If she just takes him through the bank to the door, she might not be fast enough to prevent him from getting hurt in the chaos. No other options, then. Raven smiles, and she hopes it doesn't look creepy. “My friends tend to rush into things. I'll-- I'll just--” She focuses and creates a vaguely door-sized smear of starry void in the air. “Let's go,” she says. She holds out a hand from under her cloak. Despite the sour expression on his face, he takes it. She steps into the smear, and, as always, her pocket dimension is delightfully quiet.

 

“Which one are you again?” the old man asks as she leads him down the short sandy road. The stars are reflected in his thick glasses. Raven would tell him that the reflections were pretty, but she's sure he wouldn't like that. “You're not the one from space, are you?”

 

“I'm Raven,” Raven says. “Not from space.” She opens up a hole at the end of the road, and can clearly see police cars and shock blankets.

 

“That's good,” says the man as they step out into the sunlight. “Don't trust spacemen. Have you read that _Bugle_ article about--”

 

“The aliens I know are better than most human people,” Raven says, maybe a little more harshly than necessary. She knows that she shouldn't scold strangers, but nobody insults Starfire on her watch. She turns to a police officer as she releases the man's hand. “This man was still inside when the fighting started. I sincerely apologize.”

 

“Got him out faster than we would have,” says the police officer, who is still staring at the postbox which was wrapped up in a portal to a pocket dimension seconds ago. She adjusts her hat, and coughs. “Are you making a statement, or...?”

 

“Wonder Girl does the statements. I have to go heal people.” Raven gingerly hops back into the bank through the broken window, where she's needed.

 

The battle is over at this point. All the pigeon people are de-masked and tied up neatly. Wonder Girl is nursing a nasty-looking electrical burn on her arm, so Raven rushes to her first. The other Titans wander away, either to give them privacy or to get fresh air. It really doesn't matter. Raven isn't sensing anything out of the ordinary for any of them.

 

“I saw what happened earlier,” Wonder Girl says. She's holding her arm carefully, but is keeping a straight face. “I'm sorry we left you in that position.”

 

“It's fine,” Raven says as she lays a hand over her friend's heart. “The man is safe, and nobody was hurt too badly.” She winces a little as the burn forms and disappears on her own arm. Amazons really must be strong, if they can handle that kind of pain without showing it. “Anybody else hurt?”

 

Wonder Girl shakes her head. Raven turns to look at the robbers, who seem to have given up on having any kind of dignity. They're sprawled in a dejected pile on the floor.

 

“How about them? Did someone break a bone, or hit their head, or...?”

 

“Just a few black eyes,” Wonder Girl says. “You don't need to worry about them.” She looks over Raven's shoulder, through the window at a news truck that's rolling up beside the police cars. “The media got here,” she says, looking a little disappointed. “Do you think we'll manage to get away without making any statements?”

 

Raven shakes her head.

 

“Damn,” Wonder Girl says. “I guess I should go out there and look mature, then. I wish...”

 

“So do I.”

 

They both wish Robin were here. He's always been a natural at press releases and charming newspeople. Whenever anybody asks a question that's too intrusive, or embarrassing, or just plain un-answerable, he always has a joke or a flirtatious comment to make his interviewer forget whatever they'd been talking about before. Wonder Girl, no matter how good she is at organizing an attack, just doesn't have that kind of media appeal.

 

Raven, as usual, lurks in the shadows and watches while everybody else comments on the day's events. Cyborg says it was a pleasure to help, but that the city government should really pay for stronger windows for their banks. Starfire says that pigeons are good animals, and their image should never be used for evil. Wonder Girl says that she shouldn't be thanked, because she made a promise to protect people, and all she's doing is keeping that promise.

 

Terra... Terra pulls Changeling up close to her and kisses him on the lips. A million cameras flash at once, catching the action frame-by-frame: how his eyes widen and his cheeks blush dark, how she tilts her head to the side ever so slightly, how he reciprocates enthusiastically, how quickly their fingers intertwine.

 

Raven is frozen in place. Why? Tara had said that-- _Gar_ had said that he wouldn't try to flirt with her anymore, but now, suddenly, they've both changed their minds? Tara had said that romance was fake. At least, the _real_ Tara had said that she thought romance was fake, so why is she doing this? Was that the real Tara that Raven met that night? Is there another one, buried even deeper, who really wants to kiss Garfield Logan?

 

If it's a means to an end, then... Why? Tara usually flinches away from touch. Raven's the only person she'll sleep next to, and Raven's the only person she's spoken to about her beliefs and her worries and--

 

If this is a means to an end, is that end what Tara had said it was? Does she want to have se-- copu-- forni-- does she want to _fuck_ Gar? Why? Is she sexually attracted to him? Raven's never thought much about sexual attraction, but novels have always made it out to be a burning thing. Is this sexual attraction, what she's witnessing right now? Is someone sexually attracted to Garfield Logan? Is that someone _Tara_?

 

How does this kiss compare to other kisses Raven has witnessed? She saw Donna and Terry kissing after dinner in the main ops when he came to visit, and all Raven had been able to think was _there are probably crumbs in that beard_. Dick and Kory kiss a lot, but it's usually little kisses, pecks on the cheek and eyelid and nose, as a greeting and a goodbye and a way of talking. Is it an ownership kiss? Raven's seen ownership kisses. She's felt her father giving them to conquered enemies, an insult in the form of tenderness before a fatal blow. Those kisses are a statement: “I've defeated all of you, and all of you is mine.”

 

Who's claiming who, then? They don't hate each other. Do they love each other? Are Gar and Tara in love? This is making no sense.

 

The kiss has long since broken, but Raven is still wrapped up in confusing thoughts and feelings. No matter what's going on, she doesn't like it.

–

“I just... I don't know, gosh!” Terra giggles and covers her face with one hand, trying to hide her blush. The TV interviewer eats it up. “I mean, I always kinda liked him, but I had to play hard-to-get, you know? Gee, I... I think I realized I was in _love_ with him when we went on this camping trip together. We sat under a pine tree and talked for hours. He actually tried to kiss me then, but I got embarrassed.”

 

“Is this your first relationship?” Raven can hear the smile in the interviewer's voice.

 

“In junior high I made up a boyfriend so the other girls would think I was cool. Does that count?”

 

Both of them laugh heartily. The interviewer says, “Was that really your first kiss with Changeling, in front of the city bank? Or have you two been keeping this a secret?”

 

Terra looks shyly to the side. “It was my first kiss ever,” she says. “It was the adrenaline, I think. It made me braver than I usually am.”

 

Raven watches the clip again and again, because this giggling schoolgirl is not Tara.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops


	11. Aside: Rome Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A really really bad double date.

“So, y'all are having two sweet teas, one Coke, a bubblegum soda with black olives on the side, and a hot tea?” the waitress asks.

 

“Uh-huh.” Dick is pouting again. Raven sympathizes with him, but she wishes he'd make it less obvious how uncomfortable he was. The waitress shuffles off. Kory gives her a little wave, but it's not returned.

 

Donna had suggested that Dick and Kory join her on a double date, and Raven is chaperoning to prevent anything violent or rude from happening. She feels very much like a fifth wheel. She should have brought someone. Maybe she could have made a simulacrum in her room, if this hadn't been so sudden.

 

Of course, she's no good at that type of magic. The simulacrum would have been of herself, and Raven really doesn't want to take herself out on a date. She suspects that she's high-maintenance.

 

“Raven, if I remember correctly?” Terry is smiling at her through his beard. _There are crumbs in there,_ Raven thinks, even though the food hasn't arrived yet. “Donna's talked to me about you. You're the smart one in the friend group, right?”

 

“I try,” Raven says. She checks her surroundings. Dick is predictably irritated by Terry's presence (he always was kind of the jealous type), Donna is mildly uncomfortable, and Kory thinks something is hilarious, but she's not paying attention to any of her tablemates. Raven follows her gaze, through the window and out to the parking lot. A pair of seagulls are fighting over a discarded french fry. It's really not that funny.

 

“So, I figure you always read the book before watching the movie, then,” Terry says.

 

“What movie?”

 

“Any-- any movie.” Terry nudges Donna and makes eye contact with her. Donna shakes her head.

 

“Usually I watch movies because everyone wants to go out,” Raven says. “I don't have time to read the whole book on the way to the theater. Do you always read on the way to the theater?”

 

“Not when I'm driving,” Terry says. He grins and waits for a response. On cue, Donna chuckles politely. Dick continues to pout. Kory's moved her attention to a baby at a neighboring table. It's trying to eat a knit teddy bear, and Kory also finds this entertaining.

 

“We've decided on summer for the wedding,” Donna says. “That way, Terry won't have to take a break from teaching for us to go on our honeymoon.”

 

“That's nice,” Dick says, although he still looks thoroughly upset. Kory finally seems to notice this, so she throws her arm over his shoulder and pulls him into an awkward half-hug while she continues to watch the baby attack the teddy bear.

 

“What does Terry teach?” Kory asks. She still isn't looking at anybody at the table, and it's very obvious. Raven wonders if nobody told her about manners when she arrived on Earth. Maybe she just doesn't care?

 

“History,” Terry says. “I specialize in Greek and Roman history. Fascinating stuff.”

 

“The Romans caused slaughter of many Gauls,” Kory says, nodding her head. “And left their bodies in a river. Correct?” Raven recognizes these exact lines from a Latin textbook that she'd abandoned in the basement after becoming bored with it. Kory must have found it. She's always full of surprises.

 

“That... that happened a few times,” Terry says, looking a little red beneath his beard. “They did other things, too.”

 

“Yes,” Kory says solemnly. “They also put the slaves into the Colosseum to battle wild beasts.” Another direct quote. Come to think of it, that particular textbook was very morbid.

 

“Oh,” Donna says. “We visited the Colosseum. Here, look.” She pulls up her purse and begins to rifle around in it before pulling out a small scrapbook. She opens it to a blurry photo of herself and Terry, standing in front of a structure too large to be identifiable. There's a heart-shaped sticker in the lower left-hand corner ('b mine?' it asks). Kory finally turns her attention to the table, and takes the scrapbook. She smiles, and shows it to Dick.

 

“The blood of the Ignatius of Antioch soaked through the sand of the Colosseum,” Kory says, nodding. At least she's making conversation. Terry looks deeply uncomfortable at this point.

 

“That's apocryphal,” Terry says. His mouth is very tight. He keeps looking to Donna for support, but she seems not to notice. “We don't know where exactly it was that they fed Ignatius of Antioch to lions.”

 

“You know, I never paid that much attention in history class,” Dick says, finally perking up. “What was it with the Romans and feeding people to lions?”

 

“I also do Greek history,” Terry says. “We spent a month on Plato's Republic. The class received it very well,” he adds.

 

“Was it Plato or Socrates who wanted to have rigged marriage raffles?” Dick asks.

 

“Plato, using Socrates as a mouthpiece,” Terry answers. He looks relieved.

 

“That's eugenics,” Dick announces. Kory nods her head in agreement. Donna smiles nervously. Terry shrivels.

 

Raven smiles behind her menu, and wonders why the waitress hasn't come back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kory is a very supportive girlfriend and she will support calling out Plato and ruining this friendly group lunch.
> 
> Also, Latin textbooks are violent as hell (Caesar, a brave and noble man, caused a great slaughter of the Gauls. The river was clogged with bodies). My dear mother says Russian textbooks (at least in the 80s, when she was in college) are also very violent: "The blood oozed through the gauze."


	12. 07. Birthdays?  Oil?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how young people are, when they're in love. Somewhere, somebody plays a game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **BIG-ASS TRIGGER WARNING:** This chapter has an extended sequence that presumably takes place after a sexual assault. There is also some discussion of unwanted pregnancy, abortion, and suicide. 
> 
> Also my doctor says i'm bipolar which explains the sudden fits of Doing Things punctuated by lying in the dark staring at the ceiling but i'm kind of worried that my new med is going to Fuck Up My Writing Muscles so wish me luck friendos

Back at the Tower, Tara acts the same way she always does. She's a little less mean to Gar, sure, but she's already been getting steadily less mean to him as he's been getting steadily less fresh with her. He's over the moon, of course. Raven feels kind of sorry for him. She isn't sure what's going on, but she knows that whatever Tara is feeling, it's not blushing teenage infatuation.

 

Donna pulls Tara to the side in the kitchenette and gives her a talk about how you should take it slow with relationships, and everything is new and exciting but it's best not to rush in headfirst, and how sex is something special and--

 

Tara laughs hysterically at that, and her aura is spiking and flailing its tendrils. Raven, from beside the refrigerator, feels panic slapping at her like ocean waves. Raven thinks of that night. She thinks of unwanted familiarity.

 

Raven's fairly certain that Dick's given Gar a similar talk, since he keeps on giving him meaningful looks and nodding emphatically. Gar seems to have taken it more to heart, because he's returning the meaningful looks and emphatic nods.

–

Raven wishes she knew why she gets so upset whenever Gar and Tara snuggle up together on movie nights. It isn't like Raven hasn't seen snuggling. She has participated in snuggling. There is no reason this should be upsetting to her.

 

When Gar falls asleep on Tara's shoulder, she adjusts her position so his cheek isn't resting on the sharpest part of her shoulder anymore, so that they fit together more neatly. Raven pays very close attention to this, for no good reason. Raven has never seen Tara fall asleep on Gar. This is important. Tara doesn't fall asleep with anybody. She can't relax when she's with other people (except). This is _very_ important.

 

Tara's made a habit of absentmindedly playing with Gar's hair and ears whenever they sit close together, and he's gotten so used to it that he'll just keep on talking while she fidgets with his head. This is not such a strange behavior. Dick will casually make and unmake little braids in Donna's hair on lazy afternoons, and pretty much everybody has gotten tangled up at some point when they've sat too close to Kory (which led to the disastrous “Project Barbershop,” headed by Gar). Come to think of it, she and Vic are the only people who _don't_ regularly get their hair fidgeted with. Maybe she should ask him if he's bothered by the exclusion.

 

Anyway, it's not upsetting when Gar gets his head petted by Tara and Raven doesn't.

 

They don't kiss too much (thank Azar for that), but when they do it's usually in front of a camera. Raven takes note of this. She knows that Dick is also paying attention, because she has him primed. Don't couples usually prefer privacy? Of course, both Gar and Tara have a leaning toward the dramatic, so maybe this is to be expected.

 

Raven really wishes they wouldn't kiss in front of her. Maybe the camera, but not her. Ever.

–

Tara is sixteen years old today. It was Gar's idea that the party be a surprise party, and Raven admonishes herself for not warning him against it. Of _course_ Tara's default reaction to all the lights coming on at once and everybody yelling at her is “curse and dive behind the sofa.”

 

After a few seconds of presumably battling her instincts, Tara suspiciously peeks out from behind the cushions.

 

“The hell are you guys doing?” she asks, staring intensely at each of her teammates one-by-one. Everybody is awkwardly frozen in their “surprise” positions, except for Raven, who hadn't bothered to yell and had just quietly crept out from behind a bookcase when the lights went on.

 

“It's your birthday!” Gar says. Kory blows on a party horn, for emphasis.

 

“...Oh,” Tara says. She turns a little red. “I forgot.”

 

“Well, we remembered,” Dick says. “You wrote down your birth-date when you were filling out your paperwork when you joined, remember?”

 

“Right. Paperwork.” Tara nods. “Today is my birthday.” After a thoughtful second, she adds an enthusiastic “Yay!”

 

“We didn't let Kory or Dick do anything to the cake, so it should probably taste fine,” Gar says, shuffling up to put an arm over Tara's shoulder. She doesn't shake it off. For some reason, this is annoying. “Vic made it.”

 

Vic nods. “It was from a box, though. Three boxes. I layered it like a wedding cake, see?” It's on the counter in the kitchenette, and it's surprisingly pretty. Raven hadn't pegged Vic for someone who would be good at cake decorating, but when she thinks about it, it makes sense. He's an expressive person (whether he likes that or not) and has an eye for details. He also really enjoys being told he's done a good job (but who doesn't, really?), and there's nothing like feeding people to get you praised.

 

Everybody sings “Happy Birthday.” Raven does her best. Maybe she whispers it, more than sings it. Raven isn't the singing type.

 

Because of the impromptu nature of the party, there aren't any presents. Tara doesn't seem to mind. She just seems to enjoy being the center of attention. They play “Silent Telephone” and dance to bad pop music. Tara keeps interrupting songs to comment on how dumb the lyrics are, but nobody tells her to stop because she's the fucking Birthday Girl, and she can do what she wants.

 

Gar and Tara do one of those weird wiggly dances that young people seem to like (but isn't Raven only a year and a half older than them?), and then Gar gets hopped up on sugar and starts making sex jokes. Donna sends him off to calm down (he really is a lot like a puppy: if he gets overstimulated, he will jump on things and yell).

 

In the end, Tara wears herself out surprisingly quickly and falls asleep on the sofa with frosting on her face and an empty soda can in her hand. Dick puts a finger to his lips and the remaining partiers leave the room as quietly as possible.

 

In the hallway between the individual bedrooms, Dick calls a sudden meeting. Kory offers to wake up Tara and fetch Gar, but he shakes his head.

 

“This is kind of about them,” he admits. “Gar's acting pretty much the same as he always does, but...”

 

“I know,” Donna says. She's fidgeting with her engagement ring, rolling it around on her finger. “She's been out of character lately.”

 

“She's more willing to do interviews, definitely,” Vic says. “But that means the rest of us get a break, right? And I'm happy for Gar. He's been swooning over her ever since she joined.”

 

“That's the problem,” Dick says. “She's shown zero romantic interest in him, and now she's suddenly acting all cutesy and cuddling up to him every time there's a camera around. It doesn't make sense, and I'm kind of worried.”

 

“I have seen this on television shows,” Kory says, a little uncertainly. “The girl who acts the angriest is the one who is in love.”

 

“It's not like that in real life.” Donna pats Kory's shoulder. “The girl who acts the angriest is usually just angry.”

 

Kory pauses for a few seconds, averts her eyes and laces her fingers together. “I know,” she admits. “I... Tara is sad, I think. More than she is angry. She cries when she is sleeping, sometimes. I hear it when I pass by her room.”

 

“Look, I don't care how sad she is. If Tara is playing with Gar, I vote we kick her off the team,” Vic says. “He's a lot more vulnerable than he looks, and if she's got him tied up in some little mind game, I don't want to work with her anymore.”

 

“I think it's more complicated than that,” Dick says. “Raven's been, um... Raven's been telling me for a while now, and I've been trying to ignore it.”

 

“Telling you what?” Donna asks, eyes narrowed.

 

“Something is wrong with Tara,” Raven says. “Her aura is sick, and I haven't been able to drive the sickness out.”

 

“Could you say that using people words, maybe?” Vic has his arms crossed. Apparently, he's already decided that he's angry.

 

“The aura is basically the outside version of what's inside us, right?” Donna asks. “If her aura is sick, do you think she's... I don't know, depressed, maybe?” She smiles anxiously at Raven, hoping for an affirmation.

 

“I don't know exactly what's going on inside Tara's head,” Raven says. “But I do know auras, and I know evil. Tara's aura suggests that she's constantly lying. I'm almost certain that most of the emotions she shows us are fake. I'm not sure if Tara herself is the problem, but when I walk by her... Something dark is in there. I can feel it.”

 

There's a brief moment of silence. Everyone stares at Raven with varying degrees of shock, until Vic finally breaks the silence.

 

“Have you ever wondered if she might just be an asshole?” he asks, completely straight-faced. Raven can feel that he's frustrated. “As in, she's taking advantage of us for free food and housing, and she's cozying up to Gar because it'll make her position more secure?”

 

“I don't think that's fair,” Donna says. “There are safer ways to freeload. She could have picked a household full of people who weren't always getting shot at if that was all she wanted.”

 

“We need to talk to her,” Kory says. “If she is suffering, we should help. I do not think she has bad intentions, and she is our friend, and--”

 

“You can't _do_ that!” Raven insists. Why don't they get it? “When you talk to Tara, you aren't talking to the actual Tara! I've seen her real aura, and the one that follows her around isn't it! I think a demon or some kind of personification or maybe a... _Something_ has latched on to her. But I can't feel any demonic presence in the Tower, so--”

 

“That's so fucking _paranoid_ , Raven!” Dick interrupts, far more loudly than necessary. Everybody immediately goes silent, shocked by the outburst. “Look, we're all worried about Tara. But you're obsessing about this. I haven't seen you looking so upset since we first met and your father wanted to destroy the planet. You keep on brooding and stewing and...” he begins to cool down, and now he's embarrassed. He takes a deep breath. “To be honest, with the way you've been acting, I'm more worried about you.”

 

Everyone's quiet for a bit after that. They look at the floor, their own fingernails, and the badly-painted portrait of Batman that somehow got into the Tower and never left.

 

“I should probably go to bed,” Donna says, and she nervously shuffles off.

 

“Yeah. We'll clean up tomorrow. It's late.” Dick nods in approval. “Kory?”

 

“I think we should watch a late-night special before we go to sleep,” she says. They walk off holding hands.

 

“I'll turn in too,” Vic says awkwardly. He turns to look at Raven. “I'm not mad at you,” he says.

 

“I know,” she says.

 

“You know Gar,” Vic says. “If she hurts him, he'll be crushed.”

 

“I know Gar,” Raven says. “And I care about him, as much as I care abut Tara.”

 

“But you're still taking sides.”

 

“I...” Childishly, Raven says the first thing that comes to mind. “So are you.”

 

Vic laughs. There's always a slight rattle when he laughs or yells or does anything too lung-y, and it used to make Raven nervous, but now she's used to it. It's just one of those things about knowing people. “That's fair,” he says. “If all hell breaks loose, though...”

 

“I'll do my best to care for both of them,” Raven says. “But you're Gar's best friend. I can handle damage control, but you're the one he'll go to when he's at his worst.”

 

“I can take that,” Vic says.

 

“I'm giving you responsibility over him,” Raven says, trying to emphasize her point.

 

Vic snorts. “Are you his mom?”

 

“I'm his teammate, and I'm here to protect him. And you. And everyone.” Raven initiates a hug. At first, Vic is startled, but then he hugs back. It lasts for a while. When she steps back, her cheek has left a warm spot on his metal chest.

 

“You're doing a good job so far,” Vic says.

 

“Thank you,” Raven says, and she turns to leave for her room.

 

As soon as she closes the door, she slides to the ground. Is she doing a good job? She's doing her best, definitely. For some reason, the fact that someone has noticed makes her want to cry. She chokes back whatever tears are trying to bubble up, and meditates until she's calm enough to let herself sleep.

–

**It isn't enough. Even if she pushed them down, those were tears, and tears are for the weak, and now _he_ is in her head, and she will have to bear witness to--**

 

Raven is sitting there, in a lavish bedroom between dimensions. She can see her father's reflection in the mirror across the room, his features cast into harsh angles by flickering candles. It's always like this; she can't even cry aloud, because she and her father are the same being. It's been a week, now, since she's been given this bride. She's feeling good about herself-- triumphant, even. She's managed to do something that she's spent millennia trying and failing at.

 

“Arella,” she says to the woman crumpled on the floor. She doesn't respond. Annoying. “Arella,” Raven repeats. Slowly, the woman raises herself up on her elbows, expression still unreadable with her dark hair hanging over her face. It doesn't matter. Raven knows what she's feeling. Arella oozes her emotions like pus.

 

“What?” Arella asks in a hoarse, shaking voice. “Am I not even allowed to suffer, now? Is that another thing you want to take?”

 

Raven laughs softly, stands, and moves to kneel beside Arella. She lays a hand on the woman's bare back. It shudders involuntarily when the hand moves slowly up the spine, to rest between Arella's shoulderblades.

 

“You're different,” Raven says. “I've had brides from many dimensions, and I've enjoyed plenty of them, but you are different, Arella.”

 

“Stop playing.”

 

“If I stopped playing, you would stop existing.”

 

“Stop. Playing.” Arella looks up at her with burning eyes, and a smile like death.

 

“You're different,” Raven repeats, and strokes Arella's back. It's nice, being roughly in the same size range as her subjects once in a while. When she's in a small body like this, all the details of the world are magnified. Each spiral of her bride's hair catches the light a little differently, and her spine is a row of individual knobs that Raven certainly wouldn't have noticed if she were big enough to roll a planet like a marble. Yes, being small is good, as long as she's still stronger than those who'd resist her.

 

“If you're still playing, what would you like to do next?” Arella asks. “What haven't you done already?”

 

“I had a bride from the Andromeda system in your dimension once. She had hair like this,” Raven says, absentmindedly wrapping a lock around her hand. “Of course, she also had four arms and much sharper teeth.”

 

“Let me think,” Arella says. She furrows her eyebrows in a stiff mockery of contemplation. “Would you like to tear my lungs out, husband?”

 

“Then you wouldn't say my name.”

 

“My eyes, then. Pluck them like olives.”

 

“If I plucked out your eyes, then you wouldn't gaze at me as you do.”

 

“Stop playing,” Arella says, yet again.

 

“You're the most fun I've had in centuries,” Raven replies. “I wouldn't want to lose you so quickly.”

 

“I hope the Andromedan girl bit off your cock.” Arella shifts a little until she's kneeling by Raven, unashamed, naked skin pale in the candlelight.

 

“You know she didn't.” Raven pauses for a second. Arella's tangents have been distracting her from what she was going to say. “Anyway, dear, you're a different creature from her entirely.”

 

“I can dream, can't I?” Arella asks sweetly, tilting her head. Her curls tumble over her shoulders like black oil.

 

“You're different from any of the other brides I've had,” Raven continues. “I haven't broken you.”

 

“Snap my back, then. Do what you want with the body. I won't care once I'm not in it anymore.” That mocking note in Arella's voice is beginning to become grating. Hasn't Raven already proven how much stronger she is? Doesn't Arella realize that she's in the presence of a _god?_

 

“No,” Raven says quietly. “You'll live.”

 

“You'll get bored eventually,” Arella says. “The texts we read before we summoned you... They said you didn't like repetition. Spending eternity with one bride is unlike you. So why not stop playing, and finish me now?”

 

“Because you're _different,_ ” Raven says through gritted teeth. Her hand has become a vice on the back of Arella's neck. If she moved her arm just so, she could easily separate the woman's head from her body. But she won't, because Arella is different, and Raven has won.

 

“Put as many knives as you like in me, and then heal the cuts when you're tired of blood,” Arella says, still smiling, even as Raven's grip on her neck becomes tighter. “I'll be the same person when you're done. Hell, fuck me with a knife. Does that sound like fun to you?” She leans into Raven's hand, daring her to twist it. “Maybe after that, you could pull out my guts and have a good long look, until you're tired of them. But if you want me to live, you'll have to put them back inside of me, so I'll be the same. You can cut my face off and replace it with the Andromedan girl's, and I'll still be the same, so why--”

 

“They all broke so easily,” Raven says. “They began to crack the moment they saw my true form, and by the time I was done with them they weren't even able to speak. You're _different._ ”

 

“How flattering,” Arella says. “I'm eloquent in the face of demonic rape.”

 

Raven shifts, loosens her grip, moves her grasping hand to stroke Arella's cheek. “No, dear bride,” she says. “You were able to comprehend me."

 

“What does that mean?” Arella asks. There's a note of anxiety in her voice. Good.

 

“It means we're alike,” Raven says as she leans in for a kiss. Arella doesn't turn her head away.

 

“Are you saying someday I'll be razing worlds?” Arella says when Raven pulls back. “Are you going to keep me until I'm like that?” She smiles. “If you do, I'll kill you the second I'm able to.”

 

“You'll never be a god,” Raven says. “But we're enough alike that I have to keep you alive. After all...”

 

Gently, Raven lifts the hand that isn't cradling Arella's cheek, and lays it over the woman's exposed belly. Arella's eyes widen in horror and, for the first time this night, she stumbles backwards, trying to escape. She's gone sheet-white, and she's breathing rapidly. Finally, an acceptable reaction. Raven had been getting irritated.

 

“You're lying,” Arella says, shaking her head violently. Her hair is iridescent black, liquid, splattering. Beautiful.

 

“Why did you think I was asking for brides?”

 

“I'll get rid of it,” Arella insists. “You know I can handle pain. I'll kill it, I'll--”

 

“You're different,” Raven repeats. “Because you get to go home again.” She smiles as Arella runs her hands through her hair, frantic and shuddering.

 

“I'll take a pill. It'll-- it'll flush everything out, I won't do this, I can't--”

 

“You're going home, but part of me will always be with you,” Raven runs her hands through those shining curls one more time, kisses her bride, her dutiful living bride, on the forehead, and casts her out to live in the world of humans.

 

Eight months later, in the sanctuary of Azarath, a baby girl arrives prematurely. Raven(?) can't see past Azar's protective barrier, but she knows because now, she can feel two heartbeats in her chest.

\--

Raven's eyes fly open. The bedsheets are a tangled mess, and soaked in sweat. Her heart (her heart, her heart, it isn't his, it's _not)_ is pounding violently. Hesitantly, she stretches out a hand and stares at it. The skin is pale enough that its veins show purple, and the fingers are long and tapered. Most importantly, the hand is undoubtedly human (as human as she can get, anyway).

 

“Stop it. I already knew she didn't want to be pregnant,” Raven says out loud. It's her own voice. “You didn't have to play it up like that.”

 

The clock on the bedside table says it's three in the morning. _The witching hour,_ Raven thinks, and she smiles mirthlessly. It's too early to get up, and too late to go back to sleep. Anyway, Trigon might not be done with his story. He might want to show her again how Arella woke up naked on a rainy street, how she covered herself with a sundress from a donation box and stumbled barefoot into the closest pharmacy.

 

He might want to show Raven again how Arella begged on her knees for a Plan B pill when she realized she had no ID or money.

 

“She still loves me,” Raven says. “You're the one she hates. When I was born, she realized I was a different person from you.”

 

Raven doesn't want to watch Arella try time and time again to purge herself of Trigon. Arella was disowned by her parents and left with nothing but a swelling abdomen and the knowledge that there was a demon inside of her.

 

“None of that matters,” Raven says. “Please stop.”

 

Raven's father doesn't respond, of course. Raven knows he can hear her. She knows he can feel her heart beating, because part of his soul is in her, and no matter how hard she tries, she can't rip it out.

 

Maybe that was how Arella felt, when she swallowed a cocktail of pills with pregnancy warnings on the bottles, only to vomit them up almost immediately on the floor of the homeless shelter. “Poor dear,” was what the volunteers had said.

 

“Stop,” Raven says. She doesn't know whether these thoughts are her father's or her own, but she doesn't want them. She sees Arella slitting her wrists vertically in the bathroom when her skin has been stretched to its limit. Only then do the monks of Azarath come to save her: only at the moment before she succeeds at protecting the world from the monster hiding in her body.

 

“Stop,” Raven says again. She turns and buries her face in her pillow.

 

It's musty. She needs to do the laundry soon.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note I think Vic deserves hugs because when you're made of metal you need somebody else next to you to make you feel warm. Basically I just want everybody to cuddle and be happy but i will not let them


	13. 08. Jealousy?  Inseams?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Dick talk about love. Some lady called Maureen is probably a pervert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really sucks when they medicate you to get you to stop hypomania-ing right before finals week. Like yES, I was maybe neglecting my health a little bit by spending hours and hours typing like a madwoman and not eating or sleeping BUT consider this: Better Grades
> 
> I gotta do what I gotta do but here are some stressed-out girls and an additional Love Advice Richard

Raven thinks she might still be Tara's favorite. Raven's still the only one Tara will sleep next to, even if she denies it the next morning. Tara has begrudgingly accepted plenty of hugs, kisses, and impromptu snuggle sessions from Gar, but she has never let her guard down in front of him. Raven's the one who's seen Tara half-asleep, mumbling and warm at four in the morning in front of the TV.

 

Raven doesn't know why this is so important to her. It isn't as if Tara doesn't show affection to other people, in her own way. She'll give the other Titans friendly punches on the arm, compliment their fighting skills, and even let them hug her sometimes (mostly Kory. Kory's hugs are a force of nature). She accepted two hours of wedding dress comparisons with Donna, without even asking for money.

 

But Raven is the one who wakes up with a book open on her face and Tara slouched against her. Raven will fall asleep alone and by accident, and wake up with the other girl draped over her like a housecat.

 

Raven is the one she kissed softly on the back of the head, on that morning. That has to mean something.

 

“Dick,” she says, grabbing onto his sleeve as he walks by. He's carrying a bundle of fabric.

 

“Raven,” he says, hastily tucking the fabric under his sweater.

 

“Are you jealous of Terry?” she asks.

 

Dick sighs. “You're like the sixth person to ask me that,” he says. “Why would I be jealous of Terry?”

 

“Well, you and Donna were very close,” Raven says carefully. “And now that Donna is spending so much time with Terry, she probably... Well, she does things with him now, right?”

 

“I guess?” Dick looks kind of nervous. He's cradling the very obvious bundle of fabric like a pregnant woman's belly. “But I'm still her best friend. Are you implying something? Because I never--”

 

“You and Donna always went to the movies together,” Raven interrupts. “But now she goes with Terry. And you have all kinds of memories together, but now she's making memories with Terry. Are you jealous of him?”

 

“No,” Dick says. He's lying a little. Raven can tell. “They're going to get married. Of course they want to spend time together.”

 

“But you knew her first, and you probably know her better,” Raven says. “So why does Terry get to monopolize her time?”

 

“I'm kind of getting the vibe that you're angry at Terry for something.”

 

Raven shakes her head in frustration. “No, I'm not angry at anyone. I'm just confused. Donna loved you first, so why--” she can't think of the right words to use. Why are these things always so much simpler in her head? “Why can't she just love you? Aren't you enough?”

 

“That's between the three of us,” Dick says, backing away. His aura is crackling with anxiety. “And it's really not any of your business.”

 

“Wait,” Raven says, tugging on his sleeve. It stretches out over his hand. “Did Donna ever kiss you? And was it before she kissed Terry?”

 

“Um, we played 'spin the bottle' back in ninth grade,” Dick says, blushing slightly. “But she also kissed Wally we both kissed Roy, and then Bruce found us and freaked out, so--”

 

“Did it make you want to cry?” Raven asks. “And does it make you want to cry when she kisses Terry?”

 

“No, and no,” Dick says, pulling his arm away. “I think you have the wrong idea about Donna and me.” He adjusts his fabric bundle. “Look, I don't know who told you that men and women couldn't be friends, but I _really_ don't want to kiss Donna or do any other kissing-related activities with her. I'll leave that to Terry.”

 

“What if it was Kory who was kissing Donna?” Raven asks. “Would that make you want to cry?”

 

“I-- I guess?” Dick says. “It would be a lot more complicated if... I'm not going to ask. What's wrong?”

 

“Nothing is wrong,” Raven lies. Dick does that thing with his eyebrows.

 

“You've been moping. Usually you just lurk, but for the past couple of weeks, you've been moping all over the Tower.”

 

Raven is silent for a few seconds. She hadn't realized that it was obvious. Suddenly, Dick's aura flashes. Something has just snapped into place.

 

“You keep on saying you're worried about Tara.” Dick is suppressing a smirk. Why is he doing that? That's unsettling. Dick shouldn't do that.

 

Raven nods. Dick continues to suppress his smirk.

 

“You started moping as soon as Gar and Tara started dating,” Dick says. “And now you're asking about jealousy and kissing and romantic drama.”

 

Raven shakes her head rapidly.

 

“You are.” Dick is amused. What's funny? This is a problem.

 

“I am,” Raven admits. She can feel herself starting to blush. This isn't good.

 

“So my conclusion is that you're jealous of either Gar or Tara,” Dick says, and now he's grinning, and Raven's face is on fire and she is--

 

“Absolutely _not!”_ Raven says, far more loudly than she needs to. “Why would I be jealous of either of them? They're both idiots! Huge idiots! They deserve each other! I have to go to the bathroom!”

 

And then she runs away. She trips on her skirt halfway to her room, and lands on her face. Luckily, nobody is there to see her lapse in poise.

  
It takes about ten minutes for her to reduce her heart rate and normalize her breathing, which is longer than it usually takes.

 

Maybe this is a medical condition.

 

Raven realizes that she forgot to ask Dick what that big bundle of fabric was for.

–

“Rae~!”

 

“Garfield.” Raven successfully avoids being tackled by scooting to the left. Gar falls off the roof, but reemerges as a whirring green hummingbird. He perches next to her to stare at the city, and shapes himself back into a boy.

 

“You're getting faster,” he says, grinning.

 

“You're getting predictable,” she says. She suppresses a response-grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“I was hoping for advice,” he says. He swings his legs carelessly over the edge. Maybe he's so casual about it because he knows that falling won't hurt him. “I'm dating Tara.”

 

“I know,” Raven says, pushing back the note of... jealousy(?)... that almost creeps into her voice. “What's wrong?”

 

“I'm dating Tara, but I'm not sure if she's dating me,” he says, looking down. “Like, I kind of get the vibe that she's not as excited as I am?”

 

“She seems pretty excited. I don't think she'd be kissing you if she wasn't.”

 

“No, it's just that she's being weird?” Gar blushes a little. “Like, she always wants to do whatever I want to do.”

 

“Is that bad?”

 

“Before we were dating, she was always getting mad at me. Now she's not.”

 

“But you don't want her to be mad at you, do you?” Raven really wishes they were talking about something else.

 

“No...” His aura blinks a little. He's as confused as Raven is. “But, um... the night after we fought all those pigeon guys, and she kissed me? She started getting really weird.”

 

“As in?” There's a sort of soggy dread in Raven's stomach. She has a suspicion, and she doesn't know where it comes from.

 

“She basically just told me, 'I give up.' She was smiling, but that was pretty much what she said. 'You win, I won't complain anymore.' And I told her she could complain if she wanted to, but she said she just didn't want to complain, and that was-- that was really weird, because she _loves_ complaining!” He laughs nervously. “She literally said, 'Do whatever,' and then she just giggled and kissed me again. It made no sense, and it was kind of creepy.”

 

Raven isn't really sure how to respond. She wishes she were there, at that moment. She wants to know what Tara's aura looked like when she said that. Since there's no way to do that, she just nods. “No sense.”

 

“I think she almost sees spending time with me as a chore.” Everything about him droops. “Like, we do couple stuff. But when we're alone, she's like a robot. A really creepy robot.” He blushes even harder, and his posture becomes tighter. “She just listed off a bunch of, um, sex things? Like, we were in my room yesterday and I was showing her my collection of bottle caps, and she just lay down on the bed and started, uh-- 'this and that and that other thing, I'm up for whatever.' And she was smiling, but she wasn't?”

 

That suspicion in Raven's stomach has hardened into a block of ice. “Did she do anything else? Did she say anything? What kinds of things did she say? Was there anything--” She stops herself and takes a deep breath. “That's definitely not normal,” she says calmly.

 

“I mean, I'm a guy,” Gar says. “Maybe this is the way I should want things to be? I said something really dirty as a joke, to try and break the tension, but she just shrugged and said 'sure.' Is that something guys want?”

 

“How should I know?” Raven asks. “I'm not a guy, in case you haven't noticed.”

 

“Yeah, but you get people,” Gar says. He smiles, but it just makes him look sadder. “I had a girlfriend a while back, when I was still with the Doom Patrol, but we were kids, so we never talked about sex or anything.”

 

“We're all still kids,” Raven says. “Except for maybe Donna.”

 

“Nah,” Gar says. “Maybe we were when we started, but not anymore.”

 

Raven ignores that. Thinking about it makes her sad, which is fine unless you're Raven. “Look for calm moments,” she says. “Maybe then, it will make more sense.”

 

“I guess,” Gar says. He tumbles off the edge of the roof and back into a hummingbird, and whirs off to do... something. Raven hopes it's something fun, that will distract him from any gloomy thoughts he might have.

 

A sick part of her is glad that Tara won't relax around Gar. A sick part of her that probably belongs to her father thinks, _You may get to kiss her, but at least I'm not a chore._

–

Donna has everybody measured for bridesmaids' dresses. Getting accurate measurements requires a certain amount of undressing, which Kory doesn't seem to mind, but Tara does. At the moment, Raven considers herself undressing-neutral, veering slightly to the side of “please do not.” Terry's daughter has already been measured, and Dick won't be wearing a dress (“Why not?” Kory had asked innocently at breakfast), so it's the four of them huddled together in the dressing room of a local tailor shop. Donna already has her wedding dress, so Raven suspects she's mostly there to keep things civil.

 

“I can do myself,” Tara says. “I made my own uniform, and it fits great, so I know how to--”

 

“It's different with formal wear,” Donna says. “Everything hangs differently. It won't take that long, there's a privacy curtain, and it's going to be a lady who does the measuring, so you're being really dramatic over nothing.”

 

“Ladies can be perverts,” Tara says, side-eyeing Raven.

 

“Yes, they can,” Raven agrees, side-eyeing Tara.

 

“When will this lady pervert arrive?” Kory asks. “I am getting bored, and you said we could get ice cream after this.”

 

“She's not a pervert,” Donna says. “Her name's Maureen, she dresses the models I photograph, and she's doing this for free because we work together, so be nice.”

 

“I don't trust this 'Maureen,'” Tara says. “Did you do a background check on her? 'Cause if you didn't, I'm calling the cops.”

 

Donna just sighs.

 

As it turns out, Maureen is a short, mousy-looking woman with round glasses and a bright yellow sweater. She congratulates Donna on her engagement several times, and spends a good thirty seconds just taking Kory's large, powerful presence in before asking who wants to go first.

 

“I'll be waiting just behind the curtain,” Maureen says. She has an amiable smile and a her aura doesn't suggest any ill will.

 

Kory, of course, volunteers to go first. She's undressing before she's even behind the curtain, which seems to upset Maureen. Raven reminds herself not to undress while walking. She isn't sure what would drive her to do that in the first place, but upsetting Maureen seems like a bad idea, because Raven noticed a pair of scissors sticking out of her bag.

 

The curtain does absolutely nothing to muffle noise, but the sounds of a person being measured are pretty boring. There are a few notable snippets of conversation that are mildly interesting, but Raven is distracted by Tara's aura. She's very nervous. She must be shy about showing skin in front of people. Raven understands. She tries to give her an encouraging nod, but Tara doesn't seem to notice. She's turned her attention to the curtain, because Maureen's voice has gotten louder and has an edge of frustration to it.

 

“Just get up on the stool,” Maureen says. “No, with _both_ feet.”

 

“I am already much larger than the average human woman, and you are smaller... If I were higher up, that would make all of this much more difficult for you, lady pervert Maureen.”

 

“Just... just get on the stool, Ms. Anders.”

 

“Your ruler is very bendy. May I--”

 

“No. Could you move your hair out of the way?”  
  


“Of course. Is this alright?”

 

“More than that, just, kind of...”

 

Something pushes the curtain several inches out. Raven hopes that that is sufficient.

 

Several minutes later, Kory steps out, still in her underwear (a cheap-looking pink bra printed with large, ugly flowers, and a pair of boxer shorts with the Superman shield on the crotch), and announces, “I do not think Maureen is a pervert. She was chivalrous throughout the procedure.”

 

“Hurray,” Donna says flatly. “Put on your clothes, Kory.”

 

Raven goes next, mostly because Tara is oozing dread.

 

She steps behind the curtain, disrobes, and says, very quietly, “The girl with the blonde hair is shy. Please be nice to her, even if she says something mean.”

 

Maureen, who looks somewhat shaken and has several strands of curly red hair on her sweater, nods. Raven steps up onto the stool (with both feet, of course), and Maureen gets to work.

 

The sensation of another person touching her, even if it's just business, is a little embarrassing. Raven has to make an effort not to laugh when the measuring tape tickles. For some reason, she's glad that both the top and bottom parts of her underwear are blue today. Kory can pull off pretty much anything, but Raven is sure that she'd look like a hot mess with mismatched underclothes.

 

“Why are you measuring for an inseam?” Raven asks, deliberately looking away when the tape touches her inner thigh. “Those are for pants. This is for a dress, right?” _Business, business,_ she scolds herself. There's no reason to be embarrassed.

 

“If I measure everything and give you a sheet with all the numbers, you can skip getting measured next time you get something custom-made,” Maureen says. “They should be mostly consistent for a couple of years, as long as you don't gain or lose a lot of weight.”

 

“I don't buy custom-made things,” Raven says.

 

“Always useful to have your sizes,” Maureen says. She's already rolling up the tape, wrapping it into a little cone around her finger. “I'll give you your sheet with the dress later on, okay? I'll get it laminated,” she adds, as if that's a special favor. She winks.

 

Raven winks back, because that's polite. She pulls her clothes on and steps out. Kory has redressed, but her shirt is buttoned unevenly and she's pouting. Donna looks like she just got out of a barfight. Raven makes a connection between these two things.

 

“Next!” Maureen calls from behind the curtain. Tara shudders, but she gets walking anyway.

 

“It's not that bad,” Raven whispers as Tara passes her. “Hang in there.”

 

Tara looks at her for a second, and for some reason, her emotions flare. She smiles, nervously. “I'll try to,” she says.

 

Raven goes to join Kory and Donna. Kory, who is still obviously irritated, is thoughtfully examining a tacky painting of a kitten that's hanging on the wall. Donna is reading a paperback she must have brought in her purse. There's a pirate on the cover, and the title's font is so swirly that Raven can't make it out.

 

“How injured are you?” Raven asks. “From the fight with Kory.”

 

“It was mostly shoving,” Donna says. “I shoved her, she shoved me, I told her that there were public indecency laws, she started crying, I tried to button up her shirt while she was distracted... Nothing you need to heal.”

 

“I am not a child,” Kory calls over her shoulder. “You do not need to dress me.”

 

“If we're going to be seen in public together, I do need to dress you!” Donna says.

 

Kory makes a small “hmph” sound, and then says, “I understand that I must respect the laws of your planet. I apologize for headbutting you in the solar plexus.”

 

“I'm sorry I did that chokehold on you while I was getting your arms in the sleeves,” Donna replies.

 

“It did not hurt,” Kory says. She and Donna hug each other. Raven wonders how she could have not heard this fight going on on the other side of the curtain.

 

It's silent for another minute before the sound of a slap echoes through the dressing room. Tara storms out from behind the curtain, still hiking up her baggy jeans. Maureen stumbles out after her, her glasses askew.

 

“That was _not_ part of the deal,” Tara says, pulling an obviously stolen band t-shirt over her head. Raven catches a glimpse of large bruises on both sides of Tara's hips. “It was for a fucking dress, so you didn't have to--”

 

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” Donna says, rushing forward to help Maureen regain her balance. “Tara,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

 

“What am _I_ doing!? This lady couldn't keep her hands away from my junk,” Tara says. “And she kept on making these stupid little comments. It was none of her business!”

 

“It was the inseam,” Maureen says, adjusting her glasses. “I'm sorry, I hadn't realized--”

 

“You'd better be sorry, creep.” Tara crosses her arms. “What the fuck were you doing?”

 

Raven feels compelled to interrupt. “It's always useful to have your sizes,” she says. “Tara, let's go.” She decisively grabs the other girl's arm and leaves the dressing room with her.

 

The tailor shop isn't crowded at all. There are various examples of fine sewing up by the windows, and a bored-looking employee is watching the door, but nobody else seems to be around. Raven sits down on one of the chairs by the dressing room door (probably there for family members or frustrated grooms to wait on). She pats the seat next to her, and Tara joins her. The blind rage is gone, replaced by a kind of red-faced angry-embarrassed-sad. Is there a word for that?

 

“She kept on asking about my bruises,” Tara says. “It was fucking rude.”

 

“Most people don't get as many as we do,” Raven says. “I should have checked up on you earlier.”

 

“Not your job. I don't need a babysitter.” Tara wipes her nose on her wrist. “Did she ask you about yours?”

 

“I can usually heal myself,” Raven says. “And most of Kory's bruises are on her arms and legs, and since she looks athletic, I think people just figure she got them playing soccer or something.”

 

“I look athletic,” Tara says. “I'm strong.”

 

“She was probably just worried about you. It's upsetting to people who aren't... like us,” Raven finishes lamely. “Not in the superhero community. She might have thought your family was abusing you or something.”

 

“Or something.” Tara, still red-faced, stares at her own hands. Raven realizes that she's painted her fingernails: light pink with little white dots.

 

“Your nails are pretty,” Raven says.

 

Tara blushes harder. “I wanted to stop biting them. It's a gross habit.”

 

“If you wanted to stop biting them, you could haven just gotten that clear polish that tastes bitter,” Raven says. “Those look like they took a while to do.”

 

“So?”

 

“They're pretty,” Raven repeats, and chances a smile.

 

Tara smiles back. “I saw it in a magazine,” she says. “The ones in the picture had hearts, but I couldn't do that, so I settled for dots.”

 

“Dots are good,” Raven says.

 

Suddenly, Tara grabs her hand. Raven stiffens, and tries not to react. She turns to look, and Tara has lifted her hand and is staring at her nails.

 

“You don't chew your nails,” Tara says. “But I could paint them for you sometime. If you like.”

 

Raven's heart is pounding. She's sure that her hand is sweating, and it's gross. All the same, she makes eye-contact, and Tara has pretty eyes and pretty nails and is pretty in general, and for some reason that's causing Raven's bloodflow to intensify, and Raven says, “I'd like that.”

 

The dressing room door opens, and the others step out. Maureen tags behind them, once-again calm and friendly. Raven stands to greet them, and Tara mirrors her.

 

“I've got enough measurements for a dress,” Maureen says. “Not for a suit or anything like that, but enough for a dress. I'm... sorry that I overstepped a boundary.”

 

Tara rubs the back of her head. “Sorry I hit you,” she says. “It was an acci--” She shakes her head. “It was on purpose, but I shouldn't have.”

 

“All is forgiven,” Maureen says, and reaches out to shake Tara's hand. Raven is just relieved that they've got a friendly tailor. If Maureen had been a bit more litigious, they might be in for some trouble. Tara grabs Maureen's hand, a determined spark in her eye.

 

“I forgive you for almost touching my junk,” she says, nodding decisively. She shakes Maureen's hand almost aggressively, but not quite.

 

“We're going to talk about this once we get home,” Donna says.

–

They get ice cream on the way back. Kory still hasn't fixed her shirt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I become embarrassed when I go to the doctor's and they put a stethoscope on my chest to check if my heart is beating or whatever that thing's for
> 
> Maureen, you brief OC, you will never appear again probably but you did your best...


	14. 09. Interviews?  Dandelions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The press is insistent about a certain mystery. Donna talks about an old friend. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _something very bad is happening and there is no way to stop it_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **THIS TRIGGER WARNING HAS THE BIGGEST ASS:** Okay, so more of that upsetting shit happens here. You can expect references to abortion and sexual abuse, and also a lot of general misery.
> 
> I'm sorry this is late! I had to do some finals and travel for chrimbus with the fambly. Also did you know that starting a mood stabilizer makes you sleep for twenty years because i did not

Somebody in a very expensive-looking dog costume just robbed a grocery store, but the thing about mascot costumes is that they're hard to run in. It took about seven minutes to catch her and return the stolen goods (fifty-three dollars and a liter of off-brand diet orange soda), but, unfortunately, strange crimes attract the press.

 

“No, I don't think Dog Suit Jenny has any future as a major villain,” Wonder Girl says to the microphone lady with the bubbly pink aura. “I think she just makes bad decisions.”

 

“Fuck you!” calls the handcuffed-criminal from the police car where she's been detained. “You'll rue the day you said that!”

 

“Anyway,” Wonder Girl continues. “Crime has been down lately, and when the famous villains are locked up, we get wannabes who think they can fill in their places.” She looks directly at the camera. “Stop doing that. You're not scary, and I hate filing police paperwork.”

 

Off in the background, Changeling and Terra are hanging off each other again. Raven does her best to ignore them, but Terra's loud, boisterous laughter is hard not to hear. She tries repeating, _I'm not jealous, I'm not jealous,_ again and again in her head, but that just makes things worse.

 

Raven _wasn't_ jealous until Dick brought up the possibility that she was, so this is his fault. It's Dick's fault that when Terra is excited about something, she bounces on her feet a little bit, and her big dumb toothy grin is so genuine that her fake smiles are absolutely nothing. It's Dick's fault that Terra has little freckles, almost too light to notice, that Raven can see when Terra sneaks up and falls asleep next to her on the sofa. It's a hundred percent Dick's fault that Terra has feathery blonde eyelashes that are so pale they're almost not there, and it's Dick's fault that she tries to make them visible with cheap mascara and winds up looking like a raccoon, and it's absolutely Dick's fault that raccoons are cute, so of course Terra is cute!

 

Terra kisses Changeling on the nose and says something witty to the cameraman. Changeling looks a little sad, but he hugs her and ruffles her hair, and she pokes his face, and they keep playfighting like a pair of puppies until the camera's not focused on them anymore.

 

“Raven,” someone says out of nowhere. It takes all of Raven's power not to jump out of her skin. It's the lady with the microphone, the one who'd been asking Wonder Girl about mascots or robbery or something like that. “Are you available for a quick interview?”

 

Against her better judgment, Raven nods. What's going on? Raven hates interviews. Terra is cute. Everything is awful.

 

“Wonderful!” The lady gestures at her personal cameraman, who shifts so that Raven's in the shot. “This will only take a minute.”

 

“I have a minute,” Raven says, staring into the camera. It's almost hypnotic.

 

“Um, please don't look directly into the camera,” the lady says. Raven nods and turns to face her. “Raven, you might be the most mysterious member of the Teen Titans. Why is it that up until now, you've refused to speak to the press?”

 

“Introvert,” Raven says, staring over the lady's shoulder to watch Terra wander off to sit on the curb. “I'm naturally introverted,” she repeats. It's not a lie. “Also, my powers can get in the way of communication.”

 

“Eyes on me, please,” the lady says. She looks embarrassed. Why is she embarrassed? “Most of the other Titans have been fairly open about their life histories, if not about their true identities. We know that Wonder Girl is associated with the Amazons on Themiscyra, and that Cyborg was involved in a severe accident a few years back. What's your story?”

 

“Secret,” Raven says, trying not to watch Terra fidget with a chunk of loose concrete.

 

“Another topic, then!” The lady is trying so hard. Her aura is strained. Raven is a little worried about her. “Robin hasn't been spotted, here or in Gotham, for almost ten months now. The other Titans refused to comment on the subject, but I have a feeling that you're different. Where did the Boy Wonder wander off to?”

 

“I don't understand the question,” Raven says, even though she understands the question.

 

“Robin,” the lady repeats. She's sweating. What about her suit? Sweat is bad for suits. “His disappearance was upsetting to many people, myself included. There are a lot of upsetting rumors going around about it.”

 

“Rumors,” Raven says. Terra looks sad. Why is she sad? Raven begins to step away from the camera to check up on her, but the lady puts a hand on her shoulder and stops her.

 

“I only need one more answer from you,” the lady says. “People have been worrying, and they want to know the truth. Is Robin alive or dead?”

 

“No comment,” Raven says. She isn't sure what the story Dick wanted the public to hear was. She's not sure he's even told Batman that he's taken off his cape and mask. This subject matter is too personal for her. Terra looks sad. Raven abandons her interviewer.

 

“Are you okay?” Raven asks, joining Terra on the curb, and primly tucks her legs beneath her. The concrete scratches.

 

“I'm great,” Terra says unenthusiastically.

 

“No.”

 

“I'm worried things are moving too fast with Gar. Like, we've been spending so much time together, and I'm kind of...” She never finishes the thought. Instead, she just stares at the dandelions growing through the concrete. “Hey, do you think those are flowers, or are they weeds?” she asks abruptly.

 

“You're worried that he's taking the relationship more seriously than you are,” Raven supplies. It's a shot in the dark, and a selfish one at that. Because if Tara isn't actually in love with Gar, then...

 

“Yeah,” Terra says, nodding her head enthusiastically. “That's the problem. I think he wants us to maybe, uh, have sex? And we're young, and it's so early in the relationship that it would be weird, right? Right?”

 

“It would probably be weird,” Raven says. This new information completely contradicts what Gar had told her earlier. Why would either of them lie about this? And considering the nagging suspicion from the night when Tara asked to be emptied out... Nothing makes sense.

 

“You don't sound like you believe me.”

 

“I believe you,” Raven lies.

 

“Why won't you just believe me?” Terra asks, and there's a hostile edge to her voice. “I've done so much, and you still don't trust me.”

 

“You don't want me to trust you,” Raven says. “I know that you know that.”

 

Terra makes a sort of muffled, frustrated growl. “Why wouldn't I want you to trust me?” she asks.

 

“You're the one who knows that.”

 

“You're really fucking annoying sometimes,” Terra says, and she pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on them. “Stop acting like you're smarter than everyone else.”

 

“Neither of us wants to be friends,” Raven says quietly. “We really don't like each other much, do we?”

 

“I'm trying to like you,” Terra says, and it's a half-lie. “I understand all the other Titans, but not you. I can't trust something I don't understand.”

 

“What would happen, if we started trusting each other?” Raven asks.

 

Terra's aura darkens, and she hugs her legs just a little more tightly. “We'd be stronger as a team,” she says. “And we would be friends.”

 

“If you don't trust me, then why do you always come and sleep next to me at night?” Raven asks. She realizes, suddenly, that the scene around them has cleared. The news truck is gone, as are the police cars and the other Titans. They must have gone home. Raven supposes that it's better than they left without interrupting. It was probably Wonder Girl who kept the others from interfering. She's got a better sense of delicacy than--

 

“I don't do that,” Terra says. Raven is pulled back into the moment.

 

“I'm a light sleeper,” Raven says. “I notice. I don't really mind, but if we don't trust each other, then why?”

 

“I never know when I'll actually be able to sleep,” Terra says. “So if I'm in the main ops, and you happen to be there, and I feel like sleeping, then I'd better sleep no matter what. If you're on the couch, I've got to sleep next to you. Insomnia's the worst, you know?”

 

“I know,” Raven says. She decides not to bring up that there are multiple couches in the main ops, and all of them are equally suitable for sleeping on. “I don't trust you,” she says. “But I want to.”

 

Terra blushes slightly. “If you want to, you should just do it.”

 

“I can't trust something I don't understand.”

 

“What is there not to understand?” Terra asks, tilting her head. “I'm me. I like fighting and eating, and I don't like it when people think I'm dumb.”

 

“There's more than that. Those are the things you say in an interview. You have secrets,” Raven says. “And I think they're either very sad, or very frightening. Maybe both. And I can't trust you unless I know them.”

 

“Fair enough,” Terra says. “I'll give you some. I'm not cute. I act cute for the cameras, but I'm actually mean and spiteful and kind of crazy. When I get upset, that shows, so I avoid things that are upsetting. You're upsetting.”

 

“You should avoid me, then,” Raven says. “But you don't.”

 

“You've felt the way I feel, right?” Terra asks. She buries her face in her knees, hiding her expression. “When you've done that weird touchy thing you do. So you already know what I'm like, and that outweighs how much I don't like you. I don't have to lie as much.”

 

“I know what you feel, but I don't know why,” Raven says. She hesitates for a second, and then says, “If it makes a difference, nothing that I felt from you seemed crazy. Just extreme.”

 

“Back at the beginning, you told me that I exuded evil,” Terra says, looking up to make eye contact. She looks skeptical.

 

“I... understood you less, back then,” Raven says. “I still don't understand you, and I don't know you, and I don't trust you, but I've felt the way you feel, and I've watched you carefully, and--”

 

“Creepy,” Terra interrupts, and her face is set like stone, but she's gazing at Raven intensely.

 

“And I think you're tangled up,” Raven finishes. “If everybody were... knit, or woven, or some other kind of threadwork--”

 

“That's incredibly stupid,” Terra says, not breaking eye contact.

 

“Most of the people I've met are sheets of fabric, in whatever color or texture suits them. They may have holes or wrinkles or loose threads, but I can see the pattern they're supposed to have,” Raven says. She suddenly feels very self-conscious, like she's vomiting in public. “And I know how to patch over holes, and how to iron out wrinkles, and how to fix a scarf that's getting unraveled, but I think when you started coming undone--”

 

“Rude,” Terra says, still completely focused. Her pupils are like pinpricks in the afternoon sun. Her eyelashes are shamelessly pale, and Raven thinks of seagull feathers, and--

 

“When you started coming undone, instead of guarding your damaged parts the way someone else would, you-- or someone, or something, or maybe just fate, or-- anything,” Raven says, and she's becoming breathless, and she's leaning closer to get a better look at those eyes and that nose and the shadows of individual hairs hanging over Terra's forehead. “Your loose thread got tugged on, and tied up, and wrapped around itself and the fabric puckered and now everything is just tangled, and I can't trace the line of it, and all I see is a mess but--” Raven realizes that she's started crying.

 

Terra draws back, her eyes wide and confused and a little frightened. She unwraps her arms and scoots backward a little, so Raven can't feel her breathing. “What the fuck?” Terra asks.

 

Raven scrubs at her eyes, takes a deep breath and tries to focus on nothing, but it isn't working. She clenches her teeth but she can't hold back a heaving sob, and suddenly she's the one who's started to turn inward, and there are tears making dark spots on her dress. She's breathing too heavily. Her father is going to--

 

“Hey,” Terra says, uncertainly. “Hey, what's--”

 

“Stop,” Raven says, squeezing her eyes shut. They're still leaking like a broken faucet. “I don't understand why you are the way you are. That's all.”

 

Terra lays a hand on Raven's shoulder, and pats it awkwardly. “There, there,” she says. Raven can feel how confused she is, but her own sudden burst of frustration and worry and general suppressed emotion is still predominant. She can't let this happen, she _can't_ \--

 

Terra's hugging her tightly. It's a warm, even pressure, and Raven's forehead is against her shoulder. Terra still pats her back, as though she's trying to burp a baby. It's a funny thought. Raven wraps her arms around Tara's midsection, and for a second, she thinks of ballroom dancing.

 

“You're gonna get snot on my uniform,” Terra says. “So you're the one who's gonna wash it. I'm not dealing with that.”

 

“That's fair,” Raven says.

 

They spend a while on the curb like that. They probably look pretty stupid, but Raven doesn't want to let go. She's selfish like that. Eventually, they do at least loosen their arms, so they're just sitting beside each other again, if a bit more closely than people usually do. Raven wipes her eyes with her arm.

 

“I'm sorry,” she says. “It's my policy to avoid this kind of behavior, so I must have thrown you off.”

 

“It's okay,” Terra says. Her arm is still over Raven's shoulder. “I've thrown tantrums in front of you, so now we're even.”

 

“Wasn't a tantrum,” Raven says. She nestles a little closer, even though she knows she shouldn't.

 

“Those plants over there,” Terra says, looking again at the dandelions growing through the cracks on the ground. “Are they flowers, or weeds?”

 

“Flowers, definitely.”

–

“What happened earlier?” Donna asks casually as they wash the dishes together. Despite Dick's retirement from being Robin, he still makes everybody follow his elaborate chore chart. Raven supposes that's a good thing, because otherwise Donna and Dick would be the only ones working. It's not that the other Titans are lazy (maybe Gar is lazy). It's just that they tend to focus on loftier things than housework.

 

“What do you mean?” Raven asks.

 

“After we stopped the lady in the dog costume,” Donna says.

 

“Jenny,” Raven supplies the name. She doesn't know why she remembers that.

 

“After we stopped Dog Suit Jenny, Bane of the Greater Harbor and Marina Area, you and Tara spent a lot of time talking,” Donna says. “Can I ask why?”

 

“She's worried about things,” Raven says. That's not a lie.

 

“Gar,” Donna supplies. “I thought so.”

 

Raven nods, which is a lie.

 

“I should probably stop acting like a mother hen,” Donna says as she puts another dry dish in the dry dish pile (the dishes don't match, so it's kind of shaky). “But I'm worried those kids are too intense about this relationship. I mean, they're only sixteen.”

 

“You're only nineteen, and you're getting married this summer.”

 

Donna blushes. “Three years makes a lot of difference. And Terry is a special case.”

 

Raven hums in agreement, even though she disagrees. “What are you afraid of?”

 

“I don't know,” Donna says. “If they break up, that will make everything awkward for everybody on the team. They both have to do schoolwork, even if they don't actually go to school, and this will distract them. Also, teenage pregnancy,” she adds, with a lot of emphasis on every word. “You remember what happened with Roy.”

 

Raven shakes her head. “Roy as in your friend with the arrows?” She vaguely recalls something about him being a former Titan, but she doesn't know him very well.

 

Donna sighs. “He was our teammate, back when Dick and I were kids. It was, um, it was me, Dick, Wally, Garth, and Roy. The team had already kind of broken up at that point, but we still hung out. Anyway, Roy had already been dealing with some heavy stuff, but then he went on a mission for his idiot boss-- dad-- whatever. And he met some girl, and suddenly she was _all_ he wanted to talk about, and then he went and got her knocked up but _pow,_ it turned out she was an assassin, and then Roy had to go through a custody battle to keep his baby from being raised by the fucking League of Shadows, and--” Donna slams another dish onto the pile. It nearly topples over, but Raven stabilizes it fairly easily with her powers. She needs to use her telekinesis more. It's useful.

 

“I am very confused,” Raven says. She's never heard Donna curse before.

 

“When I was Gar and Tara's age, my friend got too intense about a relationship, and he had to quit being a Titan because he had a baby.”

 

“I see.” Raven pauses. “If it helps, I've spoken to both of them. I don't think they're... doing anything that would lead to a baby.”

 

Donna sighs. “I hope so. It was really hard on Roy. I mean, he loves his daughter a lot, but it's a huge responsibility to have shoved onto you so suddenly.”

 

“Yes,” Raven says. “It is.”

 

She thinks about her mother for a second, then stops.

–

Lately, even the most diligent nights are bad. Raven meditates until she's completely empty, and even then her father visits her. He shows her the same images, the same sounds and stories and sensations, again and again until they're a constant loop even in the back of her waking mind. Raven wishes he'd at least let her see them as an outsider, but that's too kind for Trigon.

 

The nights where she tries to keep herself from sleeping are the worst, because when she finally drifts away with her head lolled over the back of the sofa, her father punishes her with the worst, most hilarious and voyeuristic memories.

 

Raven dreams of her mother looking at her with panicked eyes, struggling in her grip, crying on the floor, swearing that she'll destroy the parasite in her womb. And _aven is amused, because that is the emotion she is allowed to feel.

 

“I'll kill it! I'll kill it!” is a useless thing to say when you've been claimed by a god, isn't it?

 

Arella has been blessed. The black market misoprostol tablet won't dissolve under her tongue. Raven laughs.

 

“You didn't think that would work, did you?” Rave_ asks from behind the bathroom mirror. “You're under my protection. Nothing can harm our child, so you might as well give up.”

 

Arel_a punches the mirror and it shatters into a thousand pieces. Bits of glass bury themselves in the woman's hand, and it might be the funniest thing that Rav_n has ever seen. It's like watching an upside-down beetle trying to right itself.

 

Ar__la's struggle is the most entertaining thing R_ven has seen in millennia. Sometimes, she lets herself become too distant from the world, and she forgets that the emotions of living things are fascinating and wonderful. Joy, fear, frustration and anger and despair, all of them blending together in an avalanche of color and sound and taste, all too small and delicate for Rav__ to notice, if she isn't paying attention.

 

After all, all of Raven's other brides died within days of being taken. A few had been promising and become pregnant, but they'd shriveled away as _aven's child ate away at them from the inside. Arel_a is somehow maintaining a stable body and a clear mind. Truly an exceptional wo _M_t_er is smiling from behind an engraved column. She's wearing Azarathian clothing, a loose robe and a headband set with river rocks. She reaches out a hand, and R_ve_ stumbles forward. Mo_he_'s hands are big, with long, tapered fingers that--_

 

A bedroom between dimensions, the color red, R_g_n waits for the ceremony to end so that _he can see if this one, finally, will be a succes _R__en can feel the stone on her forehead, and wishes she could take it off because it itches, but the monks said “no” and _oth_r says to always listen to the monks, because they saved her in every way and she trusts them. _av_n wishes that Azarath weren't so small, but at least its many temples are full of secrets for her to learn. She comes upon an old, old book with a picture of a little girl with a stone on her forehead, and even though it's heavy, she picks it up and carries it with--_

 

She was so shy and sweet at first that _ri__n couldn't believe that she would willingly summon h__. Of course, after she sees the mirror, all that sweetness dissolves like so much salt on h__ tongue. Ar_ll_ is a hellion, and she fights and screams poisonous words, and that's so much fun, it takes so much effort to get her to cower and weep that _r_en manages to wear h_mself out, and _R__en's arms are so sore by the time she finds M_ther, but she's beaming with excitement. She can't read yet, but the picture! The picture must mean something, because it's a picture of her! Even in that thick-lined style where the words are the pictures and vice-versa, Ra_en knows that the little girl in the book is her, and she wants _other to read it out loud so she can know why, because whatever story is in this book is about her, so it must be--_

 

_must be--_

 

_**m** _ _u_ _**st** _ _be_ _**\--** _

 

**Hands are the worst thing. They're just crawling everywhere, you know? All over the place. They're in your hair, and they're putting stuff in your eyes, and they're pulling your mouth open and crawling up your thighs like caterpillars. Leisurely and hungry.**

 

**Anyway, hands suck, right? So it's a pain having to wear a wedding dress made out of them.**

 

“ **Congratulations!” says Mama.**

 

“ **Congratulations!” says Brion.**

 

**Papa and _that_ woman are there too, but they're fucking in the pews, so you ignore them. If they want to talk, they'll have to come to you. You're too good for them.**

 

**Gar is standing there wearing his wedding suit, and it's printed like a Hawaiian shirt. It's kind of funny, but you can't laugh because part of your dress is covering up your mouth and you know better than to try and adjust it. You aren't stupid, you know? You know?**

 

_Mother doesn't want to read today. The battle scars on her arms are hurting again._

 

**You're greeting all the wedding guests. Dick and Kory showed up, and they're kind of ashamed of you, but they're smiling. Vic didn't accept your invitation, because he says he doesn't go to fake events. Donna's here, but she brought Raven instead of Terry, because Terry's busy fixing the waterworks. Raven is smiling and she says “Congratulations!” and you say “Thanks!” but the hand shoves itself in your mouth when you open it, so you have to bite it and that's a whole thing you have to deal with now.**

 

**Good job, whore.**

 

_The other illustrations are kind of grotesque: people's faces are twisted in agony, and their bodies are making shapes that bodies shouldn't make. Scavenging birds are watching them from gilded, shadowy trees. Raven's certain that it's a story where a lot of people die, but she has to know about the girl in the picture._

 

**Raven's eyes flicker with concern, and she grabs the hand in your mouth and pulls it out. She puts it in the front pocket of her overalls.**

 

“ **Are you okay?” she asks.**

 

“ **Getting married,” you answer, gesturing to Gar.**

 

“ **Congratulations!” She smiles and it's like the moon-- wide and bright and secret. Why doesn't Raven smile more often?**

 

“ **Why's his suit like that?” you ask. “With the flowers? I would have worn flowers too, if I'd known.”**

 

“ **He likes flowers,” Raven says.**

 

“ **I would have worn them.”**

 

**Papa's done in the pew, so he stands up and _oops_ that wasn't Papa, that was Slade, big mistake there. You run over and give him a hug. He looks kind of grossed-out. You hope it's not because there's blood on your mouth from biting the hand.**

 

“ **You shouldn't have seen me in my wedding dress,” you say. “It's bad luck.”**

 

“ **You haven't been trying hard enough,” he says, lifting your chin so he can look you in the eye. “You didn't even fight back last time.”**

 

“ **I was tired,” you protest. “And when I fight back, you make it hurt!” You stomp your foot, childishly.**

 

**Slade kisses you and you have to stretch and he has to bend because he's a grown-up and that's just the way it works, and his hand is mixed up with the other hands. You hope he won't make a scene. This is private business.**

 

“ **You should have worn flowers,” he says.**

 

**Raven taps on your shoulder, and you turn to face her. She's wearing a tuxedo, and it doesn't suit her at all. “What hurts?” she asks. “I can fix that.”**

 

“ **I'd like you to get rid of all these hands, please,” you say.**

 

“ **I can't do that. They're all tangled up.”**

 

_The monks look ashamed when Raven shows them the book. They whisper. They say she'll understand when she's older. How much older do they mean?_

 

Raven's not sure how she got into a church, or what all these shadowy figures around her are, but she can see Tara clearly.

 

Tara is wearing some kind of wet white dress. It looks like it might be made out of layers of tissue paper, except slimier. There's no aura around her. Raven realizes, with a start, that all of the other figures in the room are made of that same dripping stuff as the aura Tara is usually surrounded by. Has it seeped out of her and become alive?

 

“It's my wedding day,” Tara says. “So can't you just forget about my bullshit for a minute and do me a favor?”

 

“Congratulations,” Raven says. There's no church anymore. “I thought Donna would get married first, but I guess you beat her.”

 

“Please,” Tara says, taking a step forward. “Please get rid of all these hands. They're ruining everything.”

 

“I can't see any hands,” Raven says. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Everyone can see right through my act,” Tara says. “And I've got hands crawling all over me. I should have gone with Hawaiian print.”

 

“The kind with flowers,” Raven says. “You'd look pretty in flowers.”

 

“Slade feels the same way,” Tara says, blushing. “I should have worn flowers.”

 

Slade? That's a familiar name. Raven shakes her head. “I don't see any hands,” she insists. “You're covered in... Something else. I think it might be wet grocery bags.”

 

“Really?” Tara lifts the hem of her dress and looks at it. “Ew.” Then she smiles. “Thanks for getting rid of the hands,” she says.

 

“You're welcome,” Raven says. “What happens now?”

 

“We're gonna get married,” Tara says, and, without hesitating, she grabs Raven's hand.

 

Suddenly, Raven is overwhelmed by lights and colors. For a second, she can't see or hear anything. All she can sense is Tara's hand grasping her own, and the smell of pollen from the dandelions woven into her hair. She blinks a few times, tries to get her head clear. She's back in the church, she realizes. Except now, there are people. Lots of people. She recognizes a few of them, but there are a lot of unfamiliar faces in the crowd. Somebody is playing classical music in the distance (Saint-Saens?). Tara is grasping her hand tightly, smiling at her. She's wearing a woven wreath of dandelions on her head, and a floaty buttercream yellow dress (almost white, but not exactly).

 

Tara turns and leads Raven up to a gaunt woman with tangled, silvery-blond hair and deep circles under her eyes. She's wearing a stained sweatsuit and seems to be shivering.

 

“Mama!” Tara says. “This is my fiancee, Raven. What do you think?”

 

“I'm so proud of you,” says the gaunt woman. “She has an intellectual brow.”

 

“Congratulations!” shouts Gar from across the room.

 

“Thank you!” Raven shouts back. She doesn't realize that she's let go of Tara's hand. She turns to look for her, and then--

 

“You lied,” someone says. “You told me that she didn't like you.”

 

Raven can see Tara shrinking away from someone tall and powerfully built, but she can't get a good look at that someone's face.

 

“I didn't lie,” Tara says. “She thinks something is wrong with me!  She thinks I'm a tangle! I was just going to marry her, was all...”

 

“I thought I was the only one who mattered to you,” says the someone. “I was the one who fed you, remember?”

 

“Raven calms me down when I'm panicking, though... And she's always so nice to me, despite everything, so I...”

 

“You'd be dead without me, and you know it. I was the one who taught you how to fight, I was the one who dried your tears when your father died, I was the one who kissed you and held you and taught you how to make love, wasn't I?”

 

“I-- I love you so much,” Tara stammers, leaning towards the figure, clutching its chest with her hands. “More than anyone. I'd never betray you, never ever--”

 

The sound of a slap echoes through the church, and Tara stumbles backwards as the figure advances on her.

 

Raven is between them, even though she doesn't remember moving. She looks up at the someone, and it's flashing between a mask and a human face, and she knows who she's looking at so--

 

Raven casts a shield, and for some reason Tara is naked and covered in living, moving hands, but that really doesn't matter because everything is on fire, so Raven takes another deep breath and focuses her energy and--

–

Raven is lying on the sofa in the dark main ops, awake with her eyes closed. She can hear the AC buzzing, and she can feel the softness of the comforter over her. She can feel the heat of another body, the weight of an arm thrown over her. She can feel a staccato heartbeat.

 

She opens her eyes, and Tara is there lying beside her, forehead pressed against hers. Tara is staring at her, and her eyes are full of tears. She's wearing an awful lot of mascara, Raven realizes. It's melting and pooling up like black ink around her eyes.

 

“Idiot,” Tara says. Her aura is thick and flickering. “Why did you do that?”

 

A huge chunk of granite crashes through the window, and, before Raven can do anything, Tara is stumbling to her feet.

 

“What happened?” Raven asks, not expecting a response.

 

“They're weeds, you know. I looked it up.” Tara smiles bitterly, and grabs onto the rock.

 

“I can help you,” Raven says, although she can feel her insides rotting.

 

Tara is gone before Raven is even done speaking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so all that's left now is a special aside which isn't even happy
> 
> the finale will have rotating povs, i'm still figuring out how shit's gonna go down.
> 
> i can confirm that there will be shit with the HIVE, some wilson disaster family happenings (featuring a softboi joey and a dead dead grant and a adeline "gun mom" kane, the world's most intensely divorced woman)


	15. After

Raven... Raven gives Tara a few minutes to escape. She isn't sure what compels her to do this. Whatever Tara is headed towards is probably going to be bad for both of them. All the same, Raven sits completely still and silent as the cold draft from the broken window laps at her. When she shakes herself out of her daze, she approaches Dick's room and knocks with a shaky fist.

 

Raven gives Dick the best explanation she can. “I think she was spying on us for Deathstroke,” and “it was a dream, so I'm not sure,” and “I'm sorry.” That kind of thing. Dick gets out of bed carefully so as not to wake Kory up, and, still bleary-eyed, asks Raven to repeat herself. It takes a minute for him to fully understand what Raven is trying to say, and when he does, he looks like he's been hit by a truck.

 

“We shouldn't wake them up,” he says. “The other Titans. We'll call a meeting when it's light out, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Raven nods.

 

“Where do you think she was headed when she ran away?” Dick starts walking down the hallway, and Raven follows.

 

“Probably to tell Deathstroke that I know,” Raven says. “She definitely knew we'd been sharing a dream.”

 

“How do you know something like that?” Dick turns on the overhead lights in the main ops. They're almost blinding. He walks up to the window to assess the damage.

 

“We've had dreams together before,” Raven says. Admits, really. This wasn't something she'd been planning on telling anyone.

 

Dick picks up a piece of broken glass, very gingerly, and examines it. “When?”

 

“The camping trip. We only half-shared it, then. I didn't get a full picture. This time, it was complete. I was in a different dream, but I moved into hers by mistake. We saw and heard the same things.”

 

“How'd you do it, though? I know you usually have to spend a lot of time meditating if you want to do any big psychic work. Were you planning this?”

 

For some reason, Raven feels her face heating up. “You know how it's easier for me to heal people when I'm touching them?”

 

Dick nods.

 

“At some point in the night, she must have crept in and fallen asleep on me.”

 

“Wait, what?” Dick tilts his head to the side slightly. “Is that something she does?”

 

“It's complicated,” Raven says. She feels a twinge of sympathy coming from Dick's direction, so she shakes her head decisively. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

 

Dick slumps onto the couch, looking thoroughly exhausted. Raven, without really thinking, joins him.

 

“You liked her, didn't you?” Dick asks. “Romantically.”

 

“Yes,” Raven says. There's no point in lying anymore. “I liked her very much.” Raven liked that slightly frantic energy, that magic-marker glow, the way Tara's hair looked in the sunshine. Raven liked the warmth of a person lying fearlessly beside her, she liked to hold and be held, she liked the slight growl in Tara's voice when she was tired. She liked Tara's fingernails and her raccoon eyes and her loud, spirited laugh. “Liked” is the keyword here. This is past tense. Raven can't dwell on this.

 

“Did you ever tell her?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did Gar know?”

 

“She chose him,” Raven says. “So it doesn't matter.”

 

“She didn't choose either of you, in the end.” Dick smiles, and it's real, but it isn't happy.

 

“She kissed the back of my head, once. It felt real,” Raven says.

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The narrator, clothed in the night, whispers "nerd you thought this was over?"
> 
> **_To Be Continued, Binch_ **


End file.
